Absolute Reality
by yararebird
Summary: "No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream." - Shirley Jackson "The Haunting of Hill House" Before the story as we know it, there was more story. Beginnings and endings. Ravelings and unravelings. Ingredients of life's coq au vin. (Pre-Asylum Briarcliff. Canon compliant.)
1. Defensive Training

The security office at Briarcliff was a den of iniquity. Jude avoided visiting it at all costs. It reeked of multiple man sweat, cigarettes, numerous poorly crafted lunches and the farts those lunches created. Briarcliff had five security guards and about twenty orderlies and they all used the same office. Connected to it was their locker room, shower room, bathroom, break room and staff kitchen. So one never quite knew what to expect. Men being men: jostling, shouting, inappropriate conversation of the highest order and the profanity… This was the place to freshen up one's colorful euphemistic vernacular. She'd walked in on half naked staff eating directly from soup tins on more than one occasion. Completely unsettling.

So she entered cautiously - the missive in her hand working as a shield against possible impropriety. But today seemed surprisingly quiet.

"Frank?"

"Sistah Jude!" The head of security was at his desk, writing something when she entered. He stood and flustered a bit. His cap was off, jacket hanging back of chair, tie loose and shirt unbuttoned to reveal a white v-neck tee. "I'm uh…" He was buttoning and tucking with purpose.

"Yar fine, Frank." So why was she blushing? "I really just need ya ta take a look at this lettah and tell me what the hell it is." She offered the pages.

"Huh." Re-situated, Frank sat. Gestured for her to use the chair across from his industrial-style desk. "Let's see here." He read. Jude sat, watching him. It was warm in here. No wonder he was so casually attired. "Ah, what a pain in the ass."

"What?" She'd been afraid of that. It had seemed like a pain in the ass. "What is it?"

"Looks like the state of Massachusetts - in all its imminent genius - is passing some new law requiring safety training for all faculty and staff in committal institutions."

Jude rolled her eyes. "Because I don't have enough ta do, clearly." She rubbed her temples. "What does it mean, Frank?"

He was still reading. Flipped to page two. "Oh, it gets worse. 'All staff relative to security or patient handling are to receive specially designed defensive training in response to recent injuries or deaths to faculty in institutional settings.'"

"Defensive training?" Jude shook her head. "I mean, far you and orderlies and security that makes sense, but...far a bunch of nuns?"

Frank shrugged. "I dunno. Might be good fer the nuns even more than us. Might actually be a good idea, boss."

Jude smiled, reaching into her pocket. "I'm glad you feel that way, Frank. Because I've selected you to oversee the training." She handed him the little blue training manual.

"Me?!" He stood. "Why me?"

"Yar head of security!" Jude gestured to him. "And you have military combat experience. And the manual recommends that the facilitator have experience or previous training."

"But - but Carl has -"

"So you and Carl can split the responsibility." Jude shrugged.

"Sistah!" Frank rubbed his head. "I ain't no teacher."

"Frank. Look." Jude stood, too. Leaned toward him on his desk. "If you'll train _us _\- the senior staff so ta speak, me and Eunice - we can share the training with the othah sistahs."

Frank sighed deeply. "Dammit...Alright, look. Here's what we'll do. Tuesday, Carl can take on orderlies and medical staff. In the common room after lights out. Wednesday, I'll take you and Eunice and the Monsignor."

"The Monsignor?" The nun was shocked. "Why? He's hardly here enough -"

"But he has contact with patients. And I'm not disregarding state mandated instructions. That's gettin' us in hot water, fer sure. I don't wanna be on the hook fer any misreporting."

Jude chewed her lip. "He's not gonna like this."

"I can't imagine." Honestly… "i could give two less shits than tha next shit-giver what the Monsignor likes. He's gotta do it. And so do I. And so do you."

"Frank!" She hissed. "Ya can't talk about a priest like that!"

"Yeah, I can! I'll show ya." He opened his mouth to say more, but she cut him off.

"I get the impression ya don't care for Fathah Howard."

"You got tha right impression, Sistah."

"Why?" She was genuinely curious. Frank was one of the kindest, most relaxed men she'd ever known. It surprised her that he would be so openly disliking.

He studied Jude for a moment, considering. "I don't trust him."

"Has he given ya some reason ta-"

"Nope. I just get a feelin'."

"Frank. He's my boss. I see him often and work with him often. And my own instincts are pretty sharp. I've nevah -"

"I don't like the way he looks at ya."

"He...he looks at me?" She blinked, flushed a little. And Frank didn't like that, either.

"Like yar somethin' he owns."

"Oh." She felt suddenly uncomfortable. And Frank had a look on his face that told her he regretted saying what he'd just said. "Well." She backed toward his door. "I should go. Just um - just let Carl know -"

"Sistah Jude."

"-about his part in the training and I'lll -"

"Sistah Jude!"

"-explain the situation to Eunice and...Fathah Howard."

"Sistah Jude." He spoke very firmly this time.

She paused in the door. "What, Frank?"

"I'm sorry."

She looked back at him. An unreadable expression on her face. "Don't evah apologize far bein' honest with me."

* * *

The Monsignor was indeed not pleased at the prospect of defensive training. "I'm afraid I don't understand." He shook his handsome head.

Jude smiled patiently. "The state wants any staff that has contact with patients to be trained on some basic defense maneuvers. Far our protection."

"They want us to _hurt_ our patients?"

Briefly, the sister thought of all the patients she summarily thrashed, caned, or skelped on a regular basis. Cleared her throat. "Better them than us, is the mentality, I believe."

He paced before her desk. "It's absurd."

"Initially, I thought so, too. But I find that I agree with Frank, actually."

"Of course you do." He scoffed.

Well...that was odd. The comment - offhanded as it was - gave her pause. "What do you mean, Fathah?"

"Nothing." He was pink in the cheeks, avoiding. "I'm certain Mr. McCann's professional opinion is of the highest merit."

"I believe so." Jude spoke up for the guard, perturbed and thrown by the Monsignor's negatory attitude. "Um...that especially far the sistahs, this could be advantageous. A good way to protect themselves."

"God protects us all, Sister Jude."

"I know he does, Fathah. He must have been...momentarily distracted when those two sistahs at Myers Institute were raped and murdered last month."

"That lingers near blasphemy, Sister." Hie warned.

"The blasphemy lies in the situation, Fathah. Not my speaking it."

A resigned huff. He sat in the chair across from her. "When will this training take place?"

"Next Wednesday far us. In the common room after lights out."

"Us?"

"You, Mary Eunice, and myself."

"And are we to facilitate our own training?"

"No." She hesitated. "Frank will be -"

"Of course he will." Was that an eye roll?

"Fathah…" Jude struggled to understand. "I'm getting the impression ya don't care far our head of security."

"_Your _head of security." He pointed at her.

"You approved him!"

"I'll remind you, Sister." Timothy sat forward in his chair. "That I did _not_ approve him. In fact, you made a secondary request for Mr. McCann - going over my head to both Mother Superior and the Archbishop."

"I didn't know that was you who had disapproved him." Her forehead creased. It made no sense really.

"You were obviously distracted."

"He was the most qualified. And his interview was excellent." She spread her hands, helpless to understand this animosity between the two men. "A former Boston beat cop. Excellent service record with the Marine Corps. Two tours of duty in two wars...and he can _still_ maintain pleasant conversation."

"Yes, I'm certain he casts himself as a most perfect employee."

"I believe Frank is genuine, Fathah."

"Sister Jude." Timothy shook his head, grinning wryly. "I don't believe you need any defensive training."

"What do you -"

"You're quite defensive enough when it comes to Mr. McCann."

"I just want to understand what the disconnect is. Maybe I can -"

"I don't like the way he looks at you." He said it quickly, looking away from her.

She could have laughed at the irony. "Fathah. I assure you Frank has always been nothing but respectful ta me. Ta all the sistahs, as far as I know."

"I'm a man of the cloth, Sister Jude. But I'm still a man. And I know the look he gives you. Because I was schooled in sin, while he has lived within it." She swallowed nervously, the priest's intensity making her hyper-aware. "He covets you. It is inappropriate."

"I...I respectfully disagree, Fathah."

Timothy rose. Looked down on her with a gentle smile. "You are an incredibly intelligent woman, Jude." His fingertips barely brushed her jaw. "But don't let your belief in man's goodness blind you to his true nature."

"We're all sinnahs, Fathah," she whispered.

"Indeed." His eyes were warm and deep meeting hers. Something strangely sensual in his tone. "Would you let Frank McCann...lead you into sin, Sister?"

"Of course not." She was breathless.

"Excellent." He turned from her slowly, making for the door. "I will be at the training, Sister. Have no fear. Briarcliff shall be…" He thrust a victorious fist in the air. "Compliant."

When he left, Jude sat behind her desk for a long time, staring at the blotter there.

After checks that night, she spotted Frank on the first floor, headed to the main entrance. From the second floor landing, she called to him softly. "Leaving far the night?"

He turned, removing his cap. "I am, got Henry on for rest of the night." Didn't stop him from climbing the stairs anyway. "Unless ya need somethin'?"

"No, Frank." She shook her head. "It's...been a long day."

"Hell yeah, it has." He studied her a moment and she couldn't for the life of herself find anything covetous in the gaze. "You okay, Sistah?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

"You'd tell me if -"

"D'you think I'm attractive, Frank?" It was just the two of them. The rest of Briarcliff was quiet tonight, all screams and wailings contained for the moment. The silence and rich wood must have cosseted her to truthing.

"That's a - that's a hell of a question from a nun." He grinned, though, leaning against the railing. "S'pose I'm s'posed ta say 'No, Sistah Jude! Of course not!' Would that make ya feel right?"

"I want ya ta be honest with me, Frank. Like always. I want someone to be straightforward with me and just tell me -"

"I bet yar a goddamn knockout under that habit." He shrugged. "Ya got a pretty face. And I always was a sucker fer blondes. Bettah?" Her hand was at her chest. Perhaps she hadn't been prepared for that much straightforward. "Now. You're a damn _smart_ woman, too. And I know somethin' about how yer mind works cuz mine's similar. So I know the Monsignor musta slung some kinda hot bullshit to ya today that got ya thinkin' ya needed ta ask me that. Huh?" She couldn't deny, and he read the response in her eyes. "Ya know me, Sistah. Don't evah let anybody make you question yer own confidence. Especially him. He may be man of the cloth - and I'm just a man - but his cloth might be a little dirty." He had to look away from her glassing eyes, grabbed hold of the railing and pushed against it. "Fuck. I say too much sometimes."

"Frank…" But she didn't really have any words, herself.

"I gotta go, Sistah." He turned from her, but not without a parting shot: "Don't let him fuck with yer head. Get me?"

She nodded, watching him leave. His keys rung in the locks. Her head hurt. After a too long bath, she stood naked in her bathroom. She no longer had a full length mirror - no nun had such vanity. But she could stand back far enough from the mirror on the medicine cabinet to get a decent look.

She'd lost more weight. She'd first lost weight joining the convent, watching her old curves slim away to a hint of what they once were. Then at Briarcliff - with the stress and the grueling schedule - she'd somehow dropped a few more pounds. She slipped her hands over her hips. "I look almost sickly…"

But it was still there. The Martin family women's blessing. Or curse. However you wanted to look at it. The body. The curves. Long, lean legs. An elegant neck. She tested her breasts. They were still nice and firm. Fluffed wet curls over her shoulders. So Frank wasn't entirely wrong. She knew she was good looking woman, even if it was hidden under a habit now.

And it had felt sinfully good to hear him say it. So was Timothy Howard right? Could Frank lead her to sin? Probably. Definitely. Wetly and with little cajoling.

But she couldn't help feeling - as long white cotton cloaked her curves again - that the Monsignor could lead her to even greater sins…

* * *

Eunice and Jude arrived promptly after lights out in the common room. Frank was already there, perched against a table and tapping the training manual against his palm. "Evenin', Sistahs." He tipped his cap.

"Hello, Mr. McCann!" Eunice chirped and Frank rolled his eyes. She would probably never call him by his given name.

Jude was less formal. "Frank." She looked around. "I see the Monsignor hasn't arrived yet."

"Unless he's in stealth mode." Jude shook her head and Eunice snickered. "You excited about yer trainin', little sistah?"

"I don't even know what we're training." She rocked on her heels.

"I'm gonna teach ya how ta kick some ass tanight." He tapped her arm with the manual. "It'll be fun."

"Oh!" Eunice blushed at the prospect. They all turned to the sound of the door closing.

Timothy Howard entered quickly. "I apologize for my tardiness." He came to stand between the nuns. "Mr. McCann. You look...well."

"You, too, Fathah." The forced pleasantries were painful even to Jude. "Shall we uh - get started?" At their nods, Frank gestured. "Little Sistah. Come here a second." She came to stand beside him. "First thing we're gonna talk about is extraction moves. Or - extracting yerself from a threatening situation. Kay?" More nods. "Now. Imagine yer walkin' down the hall, mindin' yer own business, maybe thinkin' bout what's fer dinner. And all of a sudden -" He grabbed Mary Eunice from behind, wrapped an arm around her throat. "Some nutcase grabs ya!"

Eunice screamed, hands immediately grabbing at the offending arm.

"Notice how Eunice's first instinct is ta grab my arm. Pretty typical response. Fathah?"

"Yes?" Timothy was wincing at Eunice's obvious discomfort.

"Get hold of Sistah Jude there. Just like this."

"Um…" He looked at Jude, who shrugged, turned her back. Timothy cleared his throat. "I apologize, Sister." Gently, he wrapped an arm around her neck, leaving a solid six inches between their bodies.

"What looney apologizes?" Frank asked. "They're gonna say some inflammatory and probly scary shit, right? Like 'You're mine, girly!'" He growled to Eunice, who whimpered. "Go on, Fathah. Let's hear yer inflammatory language."

"Er…" He struggled. Jude waited. "I'm very crazy! And evil! I'm going to...bite your eyeball."

Jude bit her lips but couldn't contain her laughter.

"Oh, Sister! Cover your eyeballs!" Eunice shouted.

Frank was trying hard to control his own laughter. "Look here. Eunice, you don't think it, but you actually got yerself a pretty good advantage in this position."

"Yeah." Jude offered. "He can't reach yar eyeball." More laughter. Even the priest joined in this time.

"Sistah Jude." Frank let go of Eunice for a moment, approaching the other pair. "You seem like a scrapper. How would you extract yerself from this situation?"

"I could...stomp his toe?"

Frank snapped his fingers. "That's thinkin'! Good job, Sistah."

"Then, when he lifts his leg," Jude lightly stomped Timothy's toe for example.

"Ow!" Indeed, his knee rose beside her hip. Jude curled an arm beneath it - and flipped the priest onto his back. He coughed, wind knocked from his chest.

"Jesus Christ, Jude!" Frank looked over her shoulder at the man on the floor.

"That was amazingly effective, Sister." Eunice breathed. Something lit in her gaze. Something feral...

"It worked." Jude reached for Timothy's hand, helping him to his feet. "But you can also bring yar heel up into his groin area. Wanna see?" She started to curl the priest's arm around her neck again.

"No!" Timothy shouted, snatching his arm back. "I believe we all have a fair idea of what that result might be, Sister."

They practiced the maneuvers a few more times, switching up partners until Jude ended up pressed to Frank's chest and Eunice held Father Howard. "Got some inflammatory language far me, Frank?" Jude asked, straining against his hold.

"How about...Yer about ta meet tha Devil, Sistah!"

Jude chuckled darkly. "I already know him." Her elbow connected sharply to Franks ribs. He yelped, pulling away in time to avoid being seriously injured.

"You might be enjoyin' this a little too much." Their eyes sparked at each other. "Little Sistah? How's it comin' ovah there?"

Timothy was sweating. Eunice may have been holding him a little too tightly. "Pray to your empty god!" She yelled, impassioned. Timothy struggled against her grip. He tried the stomping technique, but Eunice was wiry and quick, evading his feet. When he employed his elbows, she wrapped her free arm through them, successfully bringing him to his knees. "Say uncle, Father!"

"Sister!" He gasped.

"I said say uncle!"

"Mary Eunice." Jude stroked the girls back. "That's enough, now. Let him go."

Frank had to turn away to hide his laughter.

"Sorry, Father." Eunice let him go. Patted his head. "I got carried away."

"It's quite alright, Eunice." He dusted off his knees. Groaned at a pain in his lower back. "Must have been the inflammatory language."

"I'd say we have a pretty good grasp of the from behind extraction? Especially from Sister Jude here." Frank asked. Nods. "Let's talk about evasive moves. Say some crackpot swings at ya. Sistah?" He gestured to Jude. "You see a fist comin' at ya, or a hand, what's your first reaction?"

Eunice and Timothy both threw arms over their faces. "Yep. Exactly. What's the disadvantage there?"

"Ya can't see." Jude said matter of factly. "Next thing ya know, yar doubled over from a gut punch."

"Yer savage. You know that?" Frank turned her toward him. "Show 'em how ta duck." He drew back his fist. Jude expected the swing, and slid underneath it, barreling into Frank until he toppled onto his back. "Woah!" the nun straddled his chest, her own fist drawn.

"You gonna hit a woman?" She asked, smirking. The hand flat to his chest was surprised to find him...solid. Muscles rippled

"Not today." Frank wore a full smile. Jude's wimple was knocked off in her defense, and golden curls went completely awry. She blew bangs out of her face.

Eunice squealed, clapping. "Me next! Me next!"

Jude helped Frank back to his feet. "Alright, Little Sistah." He wrangled her. "Grab yer partner and do-si-do. Ready, Monsignor?"

"No," Timothy answered, taking in the look of bloodlust on Eunice's face. "But here goes." He drew his fist back, feeling completely foolish.

Eunice was already crouched, shivering with what was possibly sheer joy. "Ya feelin' lucky, Father?" She asked. He shook his head. An evil laugh bubbled from Eunice's lips and she battle cried: "Spin the wheel, holy man!" Before she charged him.

They knocked over a table and a chair, tumbling to a heaving rest. But Timothy had the advantage now, stretched haphazardly over Eunice. He found himself between her legs. "Forgive me, Sister. What is the extraction method for this, Mr. McCann?"

"Pssst!" Jude caught Eunice's eye, standing over the Monsignor's shoulder. "Lock yar legs around him and roll."

"Oh, let's not -" Timothy started. But he didn't finish. Strong young thighs gripped his waist suddenly and he found himself flipped once again.

"Whoooo!" Cowgirl style, she tore her own wimple off, waving it in a victory arc. "Who's my _bitch_?!"

Jude and Frank watched from a few steps away, hands over their mouths. "Ya know, Sistah?" Frank asked. "I think this training may have been completely unnecessary."

"Far Mary Eunice, at least."

"And far you." He was looking at her. Specifically, at her freed hair. And _now_ she detected something a little covetous in the gaze. "Yar a spitfire."

"I saw some bar fights in my day."

"_Saw _some?"

She smiled. "Maybe started some."

"That's bettah." Finally, he pulled Eunice off the Monsignor. "All right there, Geronimo." The Monsignor stayed prone on the floor, a hand over his eyes. "Y'alright, Fathah?"

"I'm fine." Jude helped him up again.

"I think this is going really well," she announced.

"This is the best thing that's ever happened to me." Eunice solemnly agreed.

"Let's even the playing field and have a spar." Frank directed the nuns. "Sister vs. sister and uh...you and me, Fathah. Mano a mano. I think ya might feel more comfortable hitting a man."

Jude saw this going poorly. She was considering methods of communicating her worry, when movement distracted her. Eunice squared up, both hands gesturing Jude toward her. "Come at me, Judy."

"Eunice." Jude held up a finger. "Yar gonna get hurt."

"Bring the pain!" She swung. Jude ducked, grabbing the offending arm and swinging the smaller woman into a choke hold. "Wrong move, mami." Eunice growled, curled. Jude's balance was completely thrown and she tumbled over Eunice's back, oophing to the floor.

"You little shit!" She gasped. A leg sweep and Eunice was on the floor, too. Jude scrambled atop her, legs on either side of the dangerous thighs. "I told ya you'd get hurt."

"I think the question we both need to ask ourselves right now, Sister, is who likes the hurt more?" Eunice snatched a handful of honey blonde hair and pulled - hard.

"Aaaargh!" Jude railed against the burn. Instinctively, her hand went to Eunice's neck. At the prospect of being choked, the young nun released her hair shank to pull at Jude's hand. Jude flipped the script, taking those hands and raising them above Eunice's head. "I'm gonna need ya to yield now, Mary Eunice. Like a good girl."

"Yield _this_!" Eunice's forehead connected soundly with Jude's nose.

"Jude!" Timothy shouted, lunging forward, but Frank stopped him.

"This is between them, Fathah. Let em' go."

"Fuck!" Jude grabbed her face, felt a little blood. "I'm gonna kill ya!" She drew back a fist. Eunice grabbed her by the habit, though, using all of her force to toss Jude aside. Buttons flew through the air. Jude rolled to her knees, rising, and Eunice met her.

They locked arms in a dirty duel. Jude's habit was open now, revealing a generous amount of skin, apricot camisole, and lacy bra. Which Eunice took full advantage of by twisting her older sister's nipple. Jude squealed, twisted Eunice beneath her arm only to feel three harsh, resounding slaps on her ass. "Who's getting the spanking today, Sister Jude?"

"Enough playin' around!" Swiftly, roughly, Jude lifted Mary Eunice over a shoulder, depositing her on her stomach on a nearby couch. She managed to wrestle both of the girl's arms into an iron grip. Eunice growled and sputtered into dirty cushion, bucking. But Jude rode her out rodeo style. "I still got a free arm here, Eunice," she muttered, catching her breath. "And I know how ticklish ya are."

"Nonono, Sister! Please!"

"Everybody else has pissed this couch. I reckon it's yar turn."

"No, Sister Jude! Please! _Please don't_!"

"Ya yield, then?"

"I yield!" Mary shouted. "I yield!"

Jude was off the girl immediately, hands up in victory. But still managed to deliver a sharp slap on Eunice's rear, making her yelp. "That's far spankin' me!"

Eunice moaned, getting up off the filthy couch. "A valiant warrior." She murmured reverently, extending a hand. Almost suspicious, Jude shook it. "Teach me your ways, proud barbarian queen."

"Ya got enough ways, Eunice." Jude flicked blood from her face onto the floor. "Dirty fighter."

"I'm genuinely worried for our patients," Timothy said. He and Frank stood wide-eyed on the side lines, stunned by the savagery and flesh they were privy to. "Sister." Timothy handed Jude a handkerchief. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fucking great, Fathah."

He ignored the profanity. He tried very hard to ignore the lingerie. But blood had dripped between creamy curves and he had to turn away. "Jude's a tough cookie," Frank announced, approaching the nun. "Here. Tilt yer head back." He stood close to her, cradling her cranium to study her face. "It ain't broken. But it's gonna hurt fer a few days."

Jude nodded. "Thanks, Frank."

Quietly, near her ear, he added: "Looks like I was right about what's under that habit." He turned to the Monsignor before she could react. "Ready, Fathah?"

Timothy's lip curled minutely. His nostrils flared. "Quite ready...Frank."

Jude placed a subtle hand on Frank's shoulder. "Go easy, Frank." She whispered. He may have ignored her. She folded her habit up, holding it closed.

"We'll keep it light. Unlike the sistahs over here." Frank gestured to the nuns. "Let's start with the duck, eh Fathah?"

"Fine."

Frank rounded on the priest. He raised his fist, but when Timothy ducked, it was Frank's other fist that made contact with Timothy's ribs. Jude shook her head, covered her eyes. Surprisingly the blow barely swayed the priest, who bent Frank with a knee to the groin. "Ah, somebody's been takin' lessons from Sistah Jude, I see." Frank growled. He easily lifted the priest into a spin, dropping him on a nearby table. "Let's see if you were really payin' attention to her."

Timothy rolled away from Franks next blow, off the table. He flipped the furniture instead, shoved it at the guard. "I assure you I always pay attention to Jude." They spoke lowly, voices barely hisses or grunts, aware the sisters were nearby.

"I bet ya do." The guard flipped the table back up, slid across it to deliver a sharp kick against Timothy's hip. The priest hissed. "Kinda like ya pay attention to yar favorite dog."

"How dare you." Timothy shoved Frank back to the table. "Sister Jude is my most trusted advisor." He landed the first real blow, too, even though his aim was off. Grazed Franks jaw but clipped his ear.

It was almost as if Frank had let him have the punch - just so he could grab the sinewy man's arm. He twisted it painfully, holding Timothy captive. "Then why do ya lie to her?" He whispered, standing them up.

Timothy groaned at the pulled muscle, but still managed a solid kick to Frank's shin, upsetting the hold. "I never lie, Mr. McCann. And Jude is happy to serve." He twisted free, cassock swinging elegantly. The foot in Frank's stomach was unexpected.

"She serves God." Frank may have been bent double, but he took Timothy down with a head butt. "Not you, asshole." The fight turned into a wrestling match. The men close quartered, biting hatred to each other's faces, each exhaustingly trying to gain advantage.

"Jude serves the church. I'm simply her supervisor." Nearly pinned, Timothy slammed a shoulder into Frank's chin. "As she is yours. Lest you forget that."

"She's her own damn woman." Frank grappled with Timothy's sleeker form. "And she's smart, Fathah. Lest _you_ forget _that."_

"I assure you I put a great deal of my faith in Jude." Timothy managed to wriggle an arm loose and gain traction, flipping them.

Frank chuckled, mostly amused by his opponent's desperate tactics. "What else do ya wanna put in Jude, Fathah?"

"You son of a bitch." Timothy let his anger get the better of him and slammed a real punch into Frank's grin. Teeth cut his knuckle, and he drew back his hand wincing in as much pain as he'd delivered.

Jude couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could tell it wasn't good. And now Franks lip was split and Timothy's hand was bleeding. She was ready to seperate them. To end this affair before feelings were as damaged as bodies were. Eunice could sense her discomfort, and she put on a false facade to compensate. "It's alright, Mary Eunice." She shrugged. "Boys will be boys, I guess."

The boys were on their feet again. Frank had gotten in a real punch of his own, and now Timothy's right eye was red and squinting, making it difficult for him to see. "You are the one who befouls her with your thoughts, Mr. McCann. I see it in your eyes when you look at her."

"You see me carin' about her. Unlike you." He let the priest pull him by the collar. "What's more noble I wonder? Using a woman as a slave or using her like a lover?"

"She's not for you." Frank laughed through the next glancing blow and returned a far more targeted one to Timothy's gut.

"So you _do_ think she's yours." He scoffed. "What a piece of shit."

"If she had the choice what would she choose, I wonder?" Timothy was gasping for breath now. But his second wind was approaching fast. He thrust an elbow blindly, connecting with Frank's face and knocking him sideways. He knelt over his opponent. "Rome? With me? Plush Vatican sheets on her lovely bare skin? Or rotting away here in this hell hole with you? A man with no prospects. No vision. Hm? Whom do you think she would serve more sweetly?"

Frank roared. Threw himself over the priest. Wrapped his thin throat in both hands. "I think it's time fer _you_ ta serve, Fathah. To go meet yer master. In hell!"

"That's enough!" Jude pulled at Frank's shoulder. "Frank! Stop! Stop now!" She put her arms around him from behind, pulling. He was strong as an ox… "Please, Frank."

His fingers loosed immediately. He released Timothy. Let Jude pull him to his feet. Eunice helped Timothy up. A thick silence settled over the breathless group. "What the hell was that?" Jude asked.

She stood between them. The two mens' eyes locked over her head. "Nothing, Sistah." Frank huffed. Wiped his lip. "The Monsignor and I were just...agreeing to disagree on some things."

"It didn't look so amicable ta me." She focused on Frank's face. Timothy spoke behind her.

"I assure you, Sister Jude. Mr. McCann and I shall have a perfectly functional professional relationship."

"Just...not ever a friendship." Frank added.

"Agreeing to disagree." Timothy reiterated. "Does this...conclude our training session?"

"Yes." Jude snapped. "We're done here."

"Good." Timothy wiped his hands against his pants. "I'm going home. I feel...dirty."

"Ya should." Frank goaded. Jude shushed him sharply. They watched the Monsignor leave. Eunice looked at Jude.

"Sister…"

"Everything's alright, Eunice." Jude stroked her charge's cheek. "You were amazing. I'm proud of ya."

"A real scrapper." Frank smiled. "Like yar boss lady here."

"Yeah?" Eunice blushed shyly. "I mean...I always wanted to kick a little ass. Thank you for teaching us, Mr. McCann."

"Likewise, little sistah. I think I learned a couple things from you tanight."

"Goodnight." Eunice dipped her head to the elders. "I'm gonna have a nice long, hot soak." There was a definite pep in her step when she exited the common room.

"That girl's got promise." Frank said.

"What the fuck was that?" Jude asked, ire flashed in her eyes. "And don't ya dare bullshit me."

"I nevah bullshit you."

"What'd you say ta him? I've nevah seen him so -"

"Real?" Frank shook his head, turning away from the woman. He paced. "Cuz that was the real Timothy Howard you saw tanight."

"You pissed him off!" Jude pointed at him. "You said something and it pissed him off."

"You think he's so high and mighty?" Frank whirled on her, stepped into her personal space. "Why don't ya ask what he said ta me, Jude? Huh?"

"Well, what then?"

"I won't repeat it." He was leaving the common room, walking away briskly. Jude followed him, unwilling to let go of this particular confrontation.

"Why not?"

"It's insulting. To you." She was on his heels down the hall. At the door to the security office, he sighed. Turned to her. "And I won't see ya hurt."

"Ya talked about me?"

"Yep."

"That whole time?!"

"Yep."

"Oh my God." She ruffled her hair, frustrated.

Frank watched her process. Blood on her face and chest. Lingerie skewed. Hair a mess. She was gorgeous. "Trust me. It was the epitome of inflammatory language."

"He was just rilin' you up."

"Oh, he riled me up. Fer sure, Jude." He entered the office, threw his cap on his desk. Tore off his jacket. Winced. "It's not important, Sistah. Don't let it bother ya."

"Well, it does bother me, Frank." She held her habit closed in the hallway leading to the staff locker room. "I'm tryin' ta understand why I have ta worry about keepin' the two of ya separated from now on."

"I'm perfectly capable of bein' civil with the son of a bitch." He angrily tossed his oxford onto a nearby bench. She followed him again to the row of shower stalls.

"That's not exactly a promising response far the beginnings of civility. Jesus, Frank!" She approached him, took hold of his arm. "What the hell…" Their voices echoed off the powder blue tiles.

"It's a scrape, Sistah." He looked away from her. Hid his discomfort - both kinds. She was so close, and she'd let her habit loose to investigate his injured arm.

"Scrape, my ass!" She pushed up the sleeve of his tee. "Ya got some ice down here? Some alcohol?"

He smiled. "Jude?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna take a shower now."

"Oh." She was suddenly very pink. Stepped away from him as if she'd just realized their current situation. And her state of dress...or undress. "Um…"

"Wanna join me?" Her wide, scandalized eyes were precious, and he chuckled.

Jude's lips tightened. "That's not funny." She spun away, making for the door.

He grabbed her arm, some momentary insanity taking over. "I wasn't bein' funny." He could smell her sweat. The iron of blood dried on her. Her hair. She smelled like...heat. Like a fired rifle.

Her nostrils flared. Her pupils took over the deep brown irises of her eyes. "Frank…" She whispered.

He was weak for the woman. One step and she was pressed to the cool tile. She whimpered when he raised the arm he held above her head. She was perfectly capable of stopping this at any second. Had demonstrated quite clearly that she could put him dead on his ass. "Jude," he whispered back.

Little puffs of breath on his neck. On his face as he bent. On his lips as they neared hers. His body sung to hers. He wanted to taste the blood on her mouth and when her head tilted to allow the infarction and her fingers shakily scratched into his close cropped hair his belly clenched victory.

Voices and slamming lockers broke the spell. He stepped from her stiffly, like a mechanical man. She was frozen. He plucked her loose habit, folded it over her chest. She had the sense to grasp it in numb fingers.

"Woah!" Carl spun in the shower room entry, clenched a towel over his tighty whities. "Shit, Frank! Heads up, Steve! We gotta nun in here!"

Steve - a tall black orderly - peered over Carl's shoulder. "Goddamn!"

"Hey!" Frank reprimanded. "Watch the language!"

"No offense, Frank, but - what the hell?" Carl gestured to Jude. "And what the fuck happened to her?"

"Defensive training tanight." Frank shrugged. "Sistah Jude here just fixed up my arm fer me." He looked at her, eyes begging her for he knew not what. But she had no voice to argue any excuse. "Thank you, Sistah."

She nodded. Cleared her throat. "Not a problem, Frank." Gently, he led her from the showers, past Carl and Steve, who nodded respectfully despite their near nakedness. In the office, they heard the water valves squealing and the muffled voices of Carl and Steve. Jude made for the door, needing space and air and a freezing shower of her own - anything to ease the fire that had flared to life in her belly.

"Sistah."

"Don't, Frank." He pushed the door closed when she opened it. She put her head against it.

"I'm sorry." He was. Achingly sorry that they'd been interrupted.

"Oh, are ya?" She chuffed. "Well, it's nice ta meet yar regret." Bitterly, she tugged at the door.

"I _mean_ I'm sorry they walked in." He held the door fast, spoke close to her ear.

His breath, his nearness wreaked havoc on her control. "Let me go."

"We need ta talk."

"You don't wanna talk."

"Neither do you."

Her eyes were hot with tears. It was true. "Damn you." She murmured, head to the door again.

"We're both damned, Jude."

"I can't do this." Her throat ached, clenched.

"I won't make ya." Suddenly, he slid his arm from the door. Stepped away from her. He rubbed at his head. "I was wrong ta do this. Ta make ya feel…" He'd never felt quite so complicated himself. So torn. "I won't lead ya into sin."

The tears came so fast. She tilted her head back against the door. "Frank?" The pipes shuddered, valves screaming as the water to the showers turned off. Voices again.

"What, Sistah?" He couldn't look at her. Leaned on his desk, breathing.

"Nobody leads me anywhere. Especially not into sin." She thumbed tears away. "I already been there." He gave no response. She watched his muscular back move with the motions of his breath. Carl and Steve were approaching - probably naked. "I gotta go." And she fled, closing the door softly behind her. In the dark hall, she pressed herself against a wall, regaining control with a hand tight over her mouth. She shook all over, clasped her habit closed again, and made for her rooms with as much dignity as possible.

She heard the door open and close behind her. Against her better judgment she turned to see Frank standing in the hallway, looking as hopeless as she felt. The tears came back. Her muscles ached as much as her heart did. His mouth opened, and she raised a hand to hush him. She couldn't take any more.

So clutching her habit harder, she walked away. No. Frank wouldn't lead her anywhere.

But she wished like hell that he'd followed her...


	2. Nightmare Night

Jude enjoyed cooking. The sister found few auspices of her former life pleasant, but cooking remained a constant. And tonight, she was cooking something special. For special guests. Beef bourguignon.

The labor in the dish was intensive, but she found it rewarding. Especially when the two men eating it were so appreciative. Timothy Howard and the Archbishop had spent the entirety of their day at Briarcliff. They'd toured and estimated and assessed all day, and the Monsignor had specially requested a Jude meal.

He loved her cooking. And that made her happier than she'd been in a long time.

So she was smiling when they sat to the table in Briarcliff's kitchen. She'd pressed the tablecloth and napkins. Removed spots from the glasses. Polished the candlesticks. And it was all worth it.

"As usual, Sister." Timothy raised a toast to her. "You have outdone yourself. To a spectacular meal."

She blushed deeply, modestly. "Thank you, Fathah."

"Truly." Archbishop Aaron Ames raised his glass, as well. "You are a credit to this institution, to the church, and to the kitchen, Sister Jude. This is a God-given talent."

"I will agree with that, Archbishop." Jude nodded. "And I am forevah grateful far the gift."

"You express your gratitude through deeds. Like Christ, feeding the hungry." Ames winked at Timothy. "You're a lucky man, Monsignor. She's a rare bird, this one." The Archbishop was an almost devilishly handsome man. Dark haired and olive skinned. His eyes could have been black were they not flecked with bright green in certain light. And his hair was long, especially for a priest - sleek and secured with an ornate fastener. Jude might have found him irresistible were she not already smitten with another holy man.

"I'm quite aware, Brother." Their eyes on her were almost uncomfortably warming. "I consider Sister Jude my right hand. In every sense she is indispensable."

"She certainly has a knack for administration." Aaron leaned toward Timothy. "You know. I learned something truly fascinating on my last trip to the Vatican, Brother."

"What is that?"

Jude was curious, too. She'd never traveled outside of the United States a day in her life, and the idea of the Vatican - of Rome, of Italy - was fascinating. The archbishop welcomed her interest, gesturing her to lean toward them, as if he planned to share a great secret.

"The priests at the Vatican - the Cardinals who quarter there?" At their nods, he continued. "They are allowed and even _encouraged_ to cohabitate with their own chosen Sister of the Church."

"Cohabitate?" Jude blinked. "As in -"

"They live together?" Timothy finished.

Ames chuckled. "Indeed." His hands raised defensively. "In the most holy of matrimonies, of course. So to speak. They tend toward nuns not unlike you, Sister Jude: loyal, faithful, and eager to serve." He shrugged. "I met quite a few of them."

Jude was having difficulty processing. That the Church would allow a nun and a priest to share rooms seemed quite...scandalous, really. "The nuns?" She asked. "What were they like?"

"Kind." Aaron nodded. "Quiet. They know their place."

"Their place?" That rubbed her...the wrong way. A little.

If the archbishop noticed her bristle, he ignored it. "Dutiful before God, Sister. Although…"

"Although?" Timothy prompted.

"Well." Aaron swirled his wine thoughtfully. "I'm afraid none of them were quite as...striking...as your Jude here."

Timothy's jaw tightened a little. Jude looked away. "She is that, Brother."

"With the proper training, you could make Jude your selected Sister. When your time comes, of course."

"Of course." Timothy smiled.

"Training?" Jude's voice was higher than she would have preferred. Less controlled. But she was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the subject matter at hand. And perhaps a bit objectified.

"See?" Aaron pointed at Jude, but spoke to the Monsignor. "_That_ would be unacceptable within the hallowed walls of the holiest halls. That sort of questioning…" Now he looked at Jude. "Well, Sister. It's unbecoming in a devoted servant."

She shook when she stood. Wished she was possessive of more grace when she was angered. "I serve God, Archbishop. My _work_ is with the Monsignor."

"Sister Jude." Timothy spoke quietly, embarrassed. "Please, sit."

"Your purpose could be so much _greater_, my sister!" The archbishop campaigned passionately. "Father." He addressed Timothy. "Trust me. The higher you climb within the ranks of the Church - and you _will_ climb high - the more important it becomes for you to have...some respite...from the stress of your duties." A glance back to Jude. "This one…" His eyes raked over her quivering form. "Would make a more than suitable relaxation tool."

Jude gaped. Her eyes misted. "You are implying -"

"Sister Jude!" Timothy spoke more firmly now, tense and straight in his chair. "Sit down at once."

"Monsignor!" She turned to him, aghast that he would entertain even the idea of this current conversation. "This is beyond inappropriate! This is - is - _blasphemy_!"

"Do not let her use God's word against you, Brother!" Aaron seemed genuinely pleased with this turn of events. "_You_ are the Lord's conduit. Not her. Control your nun, Father Howard." He finished tightly.

"Yar disgusting!" Jude pointed at the archbishop, rounding the table. "I refuse to be a part of this discussion. Monsignor. If yar in any way dissatisfied with me -"

"Brother." Aaron spat. "She is out of turn." He spoke over Jude, a hand in her face. "If you do not collar her, I will."

"Jude!" Timothy stood. She was nearing the door. "Come back here now."

Jude scoffed. "Yar both out of yar fuckin' minds."

"Shall I show you, Brother? How I broke mine in?" Ames stood, too, casually.

"No." Smoothly, swiftly, Timothy crossed the kitchen and took Jude's arm. She struggled momentarily.

"Get yar goddamn hands off me!" The blow was hard - too hard, really - and quick. He'd never hit anyone before, much less a woman, so he'd had no idea how much pressure to use. How much control. And she hadn't been hit in so long the shock alone sent her to the floor.

Her wimple was knocked askew. A throb spread through the side of her head. She tasted blood. "Oh…" Her hand cupped her jaw and from beneath the veil's edge, she saw him flex his hand.

"Excellent, Brother." Ames sauntered over to stand beside Timothy. "Now. Get her up. You're not done...unless you'd prefer to take her on the floor."

He took hold of the elbow near her jaw. His hand was shaking, but his grip was strong. "Timothy," she whimpered. He paused. "Ya don't have ta do this." He pulled, hauling her to her feet.

A more assured grip took hold of her arms. Aaron's. "Now, Brother. Unwrap the secrets she hides from even God. They belong to you."

"No!" Jude shouted.

"Hit her again!" The archbishop commanded. "She must please you." Timothy raised his hand and Jude turned sharply to avoid the blow. But it never landed. Instead, fingers took hold of the awry wimple. Dropped it to the floor. "Oh, yes. Very fortunate indeed, Brother." Ames pressed his nose to Jude's hair. She sobbed. His breath reeked of wine. "Blondes." He chuckled. "They're all whores." He tightened his grip on her. "Let's see the rest."

Almost reverently, Timothy began unbuttoning her habit. Jude cried. "Timothy." She whispered. "Please. _Please…" _Aaron's hand shut her mouth. Timothy Howard never made eye contact with her. Didn't even look at her face. When his finger stroked the curve within her white silk slip, she lurched, shutting her eyes tightly. Groaned behind the suffocating palm. She tried so hard to turn this into fantasy, to bleed white into red, to make his gaze burn into hers. But all that burned was shame. Humiliation. Powerlessness.

"Father." Ames urged, growing tired of her minute struggles. "There will be time for glorious explorations, later. I assure you. Take her now. When your virtue breaks bread with hers she belongs to you truly. Here." He maneuvered Jude swiftly, pressing her against a butcher's block. "Lift her up. I'll hold her for you." He stood behind the block, locking her arms above her head.

She screamed futilely when her back hit the block. Timothy wrestled nervously with her stockings, but was soon enough tugging her panties down and off, stepping between her legs. She attempted to turn, to lock her knees, but Ames muffling grip spread to her nose. Threatened with suffocation, she yielded.

She prayed, though. Sensibility still seeking purchase. Surely he couldn't be aroused by this. Surely he couldn't go through with this. Not the Monsignor - not the sweet, handsome priest who loved her cooking and couldn't even seem to open his trousers. He couldn't be this man - like the man who held her down. He couldn't do this to her.

Her belief in him was so strong that every faith she'd ever held crumbled when he forced his way inside her. Hard and demanding. As if the power he wielded was the aphrodisiac. She was tense, terrified. "Tight?" The archbishop asked. At Timothy's groan of pleasure, Ames smiled. He struggled a bit to maintain his hold on Jude under the Monsignor's abandoned thrusts. "Perhaps you will allow me the pleasure of enjoying her as well, brother?" Her eyes, burning now with tears, opened to see him lick his sick grin. "After all, I've helped you break her."

A particularly sharp thrust and she jarred, screamed at the pain, at the implication of what was to come. The archbishop, undeterred, shoved her wimple into her mouth. "Sssshhhh," he soothed into her ear. Stroked her hair. "This is how you'll learn your purpose, Sister."

Her nose was stopped by tears and snot. She could hardly breathe. She choked on the black fabric in her mouth - chewed at it as if it was the Archbishop himself. As if it was her sweet handsome priest.

It was all she knew - her world collapsed so quickly, so easily into these things: the burn in her cunt, rough fingers bruising her thighs, the devil's grin above her, harsh hold on her tender wrists, the wet, fabric in her mouth, and the breathless, choking scream -

Into pillow.

It was her pillow in her mouth. She was choking on white cotton and down, teeth gnashing. She sputtered on her elbows, shoving herself into a crouch in her own bed. "What - what tha…" She gasped. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her throat hurt. She could almost feel a ghostly pain in her wrists. "Oh, God."

A nightmare. When was the last time she'd had a nightmare? She pushed her sleep-mussed hair from her face. There were tears on her cheeks. Kneeling in her bed, she cried. She cried hard and bitterly. The humiliation in the dream was fresh and the powerlessness palpable. Feelings she was unaccustomed to - that she'd vowed once to never feel again.

"It's alright." She drew her knees to her chin. "It's fine, Judy." Rubbed at her arms, self-soothing. "It's fine," she repeated. But her lip quivered. And she knew it wasn't alright or fine.

She wouldn't sleep again. Looked at the little clock by her bed 2:27. Too early to do anything useful and too late to find anything distracting. She chewed her lip. Tea, then.

The halls were quiet and dim. She wrapped her dark shawl tighter around her shoulders, slippers shuffling beneath the hem of her long white gown. She double checked around each corner, finding all corridors empty. In the kitchen, she flicked on one lonely fluorescent light. The kettle was by the sink. She filled it and set it to boil.

At the little staff table she prepared a sachet of chamomile in a green beaker. The butcher's block lingered in her peripheral vision and she shuddered. She sat heavily at the table, back to the butcher's block. _Why? _ She wondered. _Why such a dream as that? _There was the beginning of a headache. She hoped the tea would help, rubbed at her temples. The dream lingered. She squeezed her thighs together as if she could still feel the Monsignor between them. She tried to focus - to reimagine one of the many glorious fantasies she'd crafted of the two them together. But all she could feel was his grip on her elbow and the fierce impact of the back of his hand hitting -

_Shreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_

She leapt nearly a foot when the kettle screamed. "Shit," she muttered, rising. She poured the boiling water over her tea bag, tisking at her own jumpiness.

"Sistah Jude?"

"Christ!" She leapt again, hand to her heart. She whirled. "Frank. Ya scared the hell outta me."

The guard lingered in the doorway, perplexed. "What are ya doin' down here? It's almost three am."

She crossed her arms, hesitated. "Um…" The toes of her slippers were interesting. "I had a bad dream." Shrug. "It was nothin'." His fingertips pushed her chin up gently. "Really, Frank. It's fine."

"You been cryin'." How did he know that? And why did he look so concerned?

Her lip trembled again. She remembered yesterday's encounter near the staff showers all too clearly. This man made her feel so weak. She wanted to throw her arms around him, to bury her face in his chest and let her tears soak his shirt, to feel his embrace tightening around her waist, to know the good man in him, to shove him into that chair, straddle his lap, eat his mouth and fuck the hell out of him because _she _ wanted to and because _she _ was in control and -

"Can I join ya?" He gestured to her tea and she shook sense into her head.

"Sure, Frank." She turned to get another beaker, but momentarily forgot where they were. "Um - of course. Here." She finally remembered they were above the stove, but when she made to grab one, she found he'd already grabbed one. "Oh."

He smiled uncertainly, fetching his own tea bag, too. "Sistah? You sure you're okay?"

She was just flustered. "Yeah! I'm just…"

Frank poured the last of the kettle's boil into his mug. "Sit. Drink yer tea, sistah." She sat, rolling her lips. Her tea was hot. She stared at it. "Jude." Her eyes flicked up to Frank's. "You wanna tell me about this dream?"

"No." Firm and quick was her reply.

"Might make ya feel bettah." She shook her head. Her fingers wrapped the warm mug. Frank prodded gently. "Was I in it?" She scoffed. "Huh." He considered."I dream about you sometimes."

She blinked. "Really?"

"Yep." He sipped his hot tea.

"What about me?"

He shook his head now. "Nope. You go first."

She looked back to her tea. "I can't."

"Was it snakes?"

"No, Frank."

"I hate snakes." Frank gave a little shiver. "Was it that thing where yer naked and ya have ta give a speech in front of like a hundred people?"

Jude grinned. "Ya have that dream often, Frank?"

"No!" He answered too defensively. "Oh! Moles!"

"What?"

"Last week I had a nightmare that moles were takin' over the world. Couldn't see 'em til they popped up right under yer feet." He shook his head. "Reeeal fucked up."

"No, Frank." Her tea was finally cool enough to sip. "No snakes, no moles, although...I was almost naked."

"Oh. So that's not only in _my_ dreams." He relaxed in his chair. Took off his cap. Winked at her.

"What?!" She blushed.

"Nothin'." He snapped his fingers. "Drownin'! I hate that one. Or that one where yer runnin' from who knows what. Or that one where yer fallin' and all of a sudden -"

"I was bein' raped." She interrupted quietly. Her face went hot and she looked into her lap.

"Oh." He took a deep breath. Studied her calmly. "I nevah had one of those. I'm sorry, Jude." At her shrug, he leaned forward. "Who uh...or did you know who um…"

She closed her eyes. "It was the Monsignor." A whisper. Her fingertips touched the rim of her mug. "And - I dunno - some other priest. This Archbishop. He was...like the devil or somethin'." Those dark eyes floated to the surface of her memory again. "He um…" She cleared her throat. "He held me while...you know. Here. In the kitchen. On the uh - the butcher block." A flick of her hand. She sniffed. "He said that was my purpose." Frank was right. It did feel better to talk about it. The fresh tears were purgative. "Timothy was gonna take me to the Vatican and I was gonna be some kinda slave. That othah priest said I was a whore. And the Monsignor - he hit me. I couldn't fight him when that othah one was holdin' me. I was beggin' and I couldn't breathe right and -"

She hadn't seen him rise, and she startled slightly at the grip on her arm, but this was a gentle tug. "C'mere."

"Oh, Frank!" His arms were everything she'd thought they would be. Strong and kind. And he didn't care about the tears or the snot soaking his shirt. He just held her. She felt his jaw against her temple. He rubbed her back, shushing her like a child.

"It's okay, Jude. It was a dream. And I'll tell ya what: you shoulda known you were havin' a nightmare. Because if I'd come in here and seen somethin' like that happenin'? There'd be two dead priests fer me ta step ovah."

She chuckled through a sob. "I know, Frank."

"It's ovah now. It was my fault. And I'm sorry."

"What are ya talkin' about?" She pulled back to look at him.

"I shouldna talked all that shit about the Monsignor like that. I put all those crazy ideas in yer head. He ain't a rapist, Sistah. I mean, he might be a lot of things but, I don't think he's capable of hurtin' ya physically. Or - ya know - anybody else."

Jude buried her face in his chest again. "It's not yar fault, Frank."

"You nevah woulda even thought anything like that if I hadn't opened my mouth."

"You were bein' honest."

"I was bein' jealous."

"Jealous?" She pulled back again. Searched his earnest face. "What -"

"You look at him like he's perfect. And maybe he is. And I'm the one in the wrong, Sistah. What I did in the lockah room…" He rubbed at his head. "I was dead wrong. And maybe that was on yer mind, too. I treated ya no bettah than I accuse him of treatin' ya. Probly worse. I fucked with yer head, Jude." He swallowed thickly. "I wouldn't dream of hurtin' ya. I'm just a man. I feel things I shouldn't and I can't explain that. But I sure as hell shouldn't have -"

She cut him off succinctly. Almost violently. With her mouth on his. Pressed her body as close to his as possible, grabbed his neck, and kissed him. Hard. He was so taken aback he nearly lost his balance, nearly toppled them both over the table. One arm braced them against the table, but his other never broke its hold on Jude.

She broke away, helping him regain their balance. "Whoa!" She chuckled, smiling now as they steadied. Her fingers touched her lips, eyes shyly catching his. "I'm sorry, Frank," she whispered.

"Are ya?" He asked. He couldn't have hidden the surprise in his eyes. The nervousness. Worry. Naked hope.

"Not far that!" Her hands took his elbows, resituating them at her waist. "I just mean...I didn't mean ta…" She flexed her hands against his chest. "Fuck. I don't know what I mean." His thumbs were stroking gently at the small of her back. She took a few deep breaths, forehead over his heartbeat. "I'm not supposed ta feel this way."

"What way?" His lips were against her hair. His breath warm.

"I'm...attracted to ya, Frank." She closed her eyes.

"Well. That feelin' is obviously pretty mutual." He sighed. "I s'pose that's a sin, huh?"

"Only far me." Reluctantly, she pushed away from him. Turned to collect herself.

He let her go, face a mess of concerned creases. "Did God not make us this way, Sistah?" He rounded on her, willing to argue his case. "Hell, even in yer nightmare tanight. What part of that was holy, huh?"

"_That_ had nothing ta do with _this_, Frank!" She gestured between them. "This is...normal. That was hell."

"But it's proof positive that humanity can't hide behind holiness."

She grinned darkly. "Oh, trust me. I can attest ta that, Frank."

"Having desires - or - or a past...none of that makes you a bad person. It doesn't make yer faith any less. Yer a good person, Jude. And a devoted -"

"I'm not even close to what you think I am." She stepped around the table.

He followed her. "You don't even know what I think you are! Jude." He reached for her arm.

But she whirled violently. "I _was_ a whore, Frank!" She hissed. "A slut. I slept around. I drank. I sang in juke joints and I -"

"How long are ya gonna punish yerself, then?" He reached for her, held her again after a token resistance. "How long are you gonna waste away this way? Miserable and lyin' ta yerself and tryin' ta be the fraud some othah fraud wants ya ta be?"

"I'm trying to be a better person!" She pushed back. He didn't release her. "I was a wasted, wanton woman and I can be better this way. I can repent. I can -"

"You're still a god person, Jude! Good people make mistakes."

"Not like mine!" She pulled out of his grip successfully this time. He didn't fight her. Didn't follow her. He let her pace. "I'm sorry, Frank. I shouldn't have kissed you. I was…" An amorphous gesture. "You didn't deserve any of this."

Frank nodded. A wry grin graced his handsome face. "I dunno. I got ta see a rare crack in the armor of the indomitable Sister Jude."

"Indomitable?" She shook her head. "Hardly."

His grin softened to a smile. He stared at her. "Yer tired."

As if on cue, she stifled a yawn. "Yeah. A little."

"Come on." He rubbed her shoulder. "I'll take ya ta bed."

She chuckled at his phrasing as they left the kitchen. "Oh, will ya?"

"Well." He chuckled too. "I mean...not yet."

"Frank!"

"But I'll take ya to yer door."

"Yar not mad about that kiss, are you?"

"Hell no!" He slipped his hands into his pockets as they left the kitchen. "Next time, though - I'll be prepared. And _then_ you bettah watch out."

The dark hall swallowed them, hid her arm wrapping his waist and his gentle nuzzle. "Frank?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yer welcome, Sistah."

His keys jangled time to her shuffle. The clock in the kitchen ticked. Water dripped in the sink. Once only these sounds could be heard, a little figure stepped from the shadows. Nervous fingers clung to the tie on her thick cotton robe. Mary Eunice slipped into the dim light of the kitchen, chewing her lips. She'd had a bad dream of her own, and wanted a little milk.

She'd certainly not meant to eavesdrop, but there was no way she'd interrupt her older sister's conversation with Mr. McCann. Not to mention it was nice to know she wasn't the only one having a nightmare tonight - even if Jude's nightmare far overshadowed Eunice's one about a bear in the common room.

In fact, now she felt she needed her own comfort - hearing how horrifying her boss's dream had been. She poured herself a glass of milk and sat at the table, looking at the empty teacups there. She pointedly ignored the butcher block in the corner. Her porcelain forehead was creased by bothers.

Her dream. Jude's dream.

And there was no doubt what she'd heard with her own ears: they'd kissed! Her sister - her boss - a nun! Had kissed the Briarcliff security guard. Mr. McCann! Who was so nice… Eunice sighed. She was so troubled now that her milk wasn't helping to calm her. And was Father Howard a fraud? What had Frank meant? Had Sister Jude really been a _whore_?

Eunice shook her head. She refused to believe any of these things. None of these accusations were true or right or good. She compartmentalized. She prayed. She vowed she would never speak of this night. Because Sister Jude had secrets. And some secrets were best kept forever.

This Eunice knew all too well.

She had some, too.


	3. The Smell

Sister Jude _hated_ staff meetings. Hell, they all did. And she knew they did. Even Sister Mary Eunice - who hardly hated anything - wore a resigned and tortured expression to Jude's left, clipboard and pen at the ready to take the meeting's minutes. Minutes, which inevitably felt like hours. And often they _were_ hours - two to three hours of wretched, boring life no participant would ever recover.

And today's meeting promised to establish itself as the absolute worst staff meeting in Briarcliff history. Or perhaps the history of staff meetings the world over and throughout time immemorial. She sighed. The tension in the room was almost as pervasive as the fetid stench that had plagued the institution for nearly three days now.

And Carl still hadn't arrived.

To Jude's right, Frank McCann tapped a pen incessantly, staring across the table with blatant loathing at Monsignor Timothy Howard, who stared back with a nearly equal aversion at the head of security. Seconds ticked by audibly thanks to the clock on the wall. She'd never realized quite how loud it was… But Frank's pen percussion wasn't helping. Tolerance waning, she put her hand atop his, stopping the racket. Frank grunted. "Sorry, Sistah." His thumb surreptitiously stroked hers and she snatched her hand away.

Or not surreptitiously. Timothy Howard's eyes narrowed. Jude cleared her throat. Rubbed at her neck. Her habit was particularly itchy today. Too much starch?

Eunice looked about the room at nothing. There was absolutely nothing to look at. Blank beige walls and an expanse of dark mahogany table. When she looked underneath the table, Jude did the same. Nothing there. She gave the novice a peculiar look and Eunice shrugged. "Should I go fetch Carl, Sister?"

"He's comin'." Frank offered. "I caught him in the common room on my way up. He had ta break up a skirmish."

"A skirmish?" Jude looked at Frank. "You didn't mention a skirmish."

"Nothin' too crazy. I mean, in the general category of crazy here, anyway. Shelley and Norma got into it over a contraband baked potato."

Jude folded her hands before her. Eunice did the same.

"I'm certain the two ladies shall work it out." Father Howard glanced at his watch.

"They'll work it out in solitary." Frank offered.

"I'll beat it out of 'em." Jude groused.

"What was that, Sister?" Timothy leaned forward.

"Nothing, Fathah." She smiled pleasantly. Frank chuckled. The door opened. "Carl! How nice of you to join us."

"Sorry I'm late, Sistah." The orderly pulled out the noisiest chair beside the Monsignor and sat. "The natives have been real restless lately."

"I noticed." Jude rolled her eyes. "Perhaps we should increase their tranquilizer dosage."

"Let's consult our new attending physician before we make any rash decisions, Sister Jude." Howard offered. "He arrives next week."

"New physician?" Frank looked at Jude. "What happened to Dr. Phillips?"

"He was let go." Jude took a deep breath. "Yesterday. That will be the first topic on today's agenda."

"Coulda told me at breakfast," Frank said.

"Breakfast?" The priest's brow rose.

"Jude made French toast this morning." The guard shrugged. "Ya killed it, Sistah. Really delicious."

Timothy's nostrils flared. Just slightly. "I doubt highly that it was as delicious as last night's pork tenderloin." He gave Jude a small smile and a wink.

She flushed. "Ya know what? We're all here. Let's get started." Eunice's pen shot to attention. "As you all now know, we are temporarily without an attending physician as Dr. Phillips was… encouraged strongly to resign yesterday."

"What happened?" Carl asked. "I liked him."

"He was manufacturing experimental medications and administering them to certain patients." Jude explained calmly. "Some of the effects were...retrograde to our desires."

"Is that why the Mexican was humpin' the couch so much?" Frank asked.

"Nah." Carl scoffed. "They all hump that damn couch. It's a good thing furniture can't get knocked up."

"Moving on!" Jude controlled the meeting tightly. "Our new attending physician - one (she looked at her notes) Dr. Arthur Arden will arrive Monday morning. I'm certain we will all work to make him feel welcome."

"Arthur Arden?" A look of disdain from Frank. "Sounds like some kinda Nazi."

"He was selected by the church." Father Howard shut down Frank's enmity. "And found best suited for Briarcliff's needs."

"I have every faith in yar decision, Fathah." Jude supported. "Hopefully he can get our patients back on track." She ignored Frank's stare and lip curl. "Now. Any ideas as to the odd smell? I know we've all noticed it."

"It ain't a gas leak." Frank offered. "We checked all the pipes and connections thoroughly."

"It ain't sewage." Carl added. "We even had the county send out the water crew to have a look."

"The kitchen was inspected this morning." Jude said. "By me personally. I can't find anything that might make such a stench." Her nose wrinkled. She rubbed at her neck. "Any othah ideas?"

"I recommend we search the basement. Dr. Phillips' laboratory perhaps?" Howard suggested. "If nothing he concocted, perhaps there is a water leak there. Mildew or mold. Could be dangerous."

"Good idea." Jude gestured to Eunice. "Note that we need ta inspect the basement after the meeting, Eunice."

"I think it's the rabbit." The young nun murmured.

Blinks around the table. "Come again?" Frank leaned over Jude toward the novice.

"There's a rabbit loose in here." Eunice's eyes scanned the room, wide and searching. "I almost caught him last night, but he scampered into a hole in the wall on the second floor."

Silence for a beat. "A rabbit?" Jude asked.

"A white one." Eunice clarified.

"Riiiiight." Jude caught the Monsignor's concerned eye. "We'll uh - we'll look inta that, Eunice."

Carl was holding in laughter as best he could. "I mean, if there's rabbit shit buildin' up in a wall somewheres -"

"Language, Carl!" Jude snapped. She rubbed at her temples.

"That's what I thought!" Eunice pointed at Carl excitedly.

"Enough." Jude quieted the two with a raised hand. "We'll check the basements after the meeting. If needed, I'll contact the state board and have a building inspector sent out. Any more on the smell?"

"Maybe have animal control, too." Frank nodded to Eunice. "You know. Fer the rabbit."

Eunice jotted, smiling. "Strike that, little sister." Jude said. The smile fell. "Rabbits…" She shook her head. "Next order of business? The garden."

"Ohhh, the garden!" Eunice clapped. "We've cleared out the entire plot now and we're ready to put seeds in."

"We got a garden?" Carl asked.

Timothy gestured to Eunice. "Our gentle Sister here has taken on a gardening project for some of our more responsive patients."

"Yeah? How's that goin' little sistah?" Frank was ever encouraging to Eunice, despite his own doubts about her garden's success.

"Well." She grew animated and happy, a light in her pretty eyes. Even Jude found it charming. "We cleared out a plot in the foundation of the old ice house. I think it's the perfect size! And plus there's an apple tree already flourishing right beside it. So I bet the ground is nice and fertile. Good soil." She nodded. But her eyes slit suddenly, suspiciously, and she growled: "We just have to keep the rabbit out of there. He'll want our delicious lettuces, no doubt. And their brothers - the carrots."

More blinks. Jude patted Eunice's hand. "I'm sure you and Frank can work out some security measures to um...protect the vegetables, Sistah. And I think I'll come down this afternoon to take a look at yar work so far."

"I'll accompany you, Sister Jude." Timothy beat Frank to the punch, glaring openly at the guard. "A lovely walk together. The weather is quite conducive today."

"Indeed, Fathah." Jude smiled shyly. "That sounds...nice." Frank shifted uncomfortably in his chair. So did Jude. It was suddenly very hot in the room. Stifling almost. Jude felt a droplet of sweat slip beneath her wimple. She touched at it. "Next order of business, then? The new toilets, I think?"

"Plumbing crew is on it as we speak, Sistah." Carl piped up. "Nice sparkly new shitters."

"Language, Carl!" But she sighed. It was useless really. She hoped to gloss over the next topic quickly. "I assume all...defensive training is complete now, Frank?"

"Done and done." He nodded. "All reports filed, signed, and sent in triplicate to some asshat in a cushy office somewhere who gets paid a lot more than I do to put up with a lot less bullshit."

"Language, Frank?"

"The training was fun!" Eunice smiled at Frank.

"A truly joyous experience." Timothy Howard deadpanned.

"Carl?" Jude breezed to the next topic. "The uniforms?"

"All orderlies are now outfitted in these." He stood, gave a little model turn. "Scrubs. Boxy and maneuverable to ensure nobody accidentally finds anybody else attractive. And stark white, so as ta show off every piss, vomit, crap, and spunk stain available. Guaranteed ta smell like bleach after every wash day."

"Thank you, Carl." She held her head.

"I'm glad I don't wear white." Eunice shook her head. "The rabbit would see me coming for sure, then."

"Last topic." _Thank God_, Jude thought. But the one she'd dreaded the most. "Sexual harassment acknowledgment forms." She opened a manila folder and began distributing paper-clipped papers. "Please read and sign at your convenience and return to me by end of week. These are due to the state, so please be incompliance."

"Sexual harassment?" Carl of course. "What's that mean exactly?"

Frank answered (unfortunately). "That means ya can't say or do anything sexual ta any of yer coworkers."

Carl's lip curled. "Like what?"

"Like ya can't slap the cook's ass anymore!" Frank pointed at him. "That shit's right out."

"Language, Frank." Jude was ready to die.

"She likes that!" Carl defended.

"It's inappropriate professional behavior." Father Howard inserted. "And it stops now. For all staff members." His withering gaze at Frank and Jude was not unnoticed. Eunice looked at her lap as if there was a rabbit there. "No touching. No commentary. No whistling or rude gestures. Foul language. These activities are ill befitting a health facility, especially one owned by the Catholic church."

"So no more ass-slappin'. I get it." Carl nodded, eyes rolling painfully. "Does that also mean I can't tell Miss Boyd she sure looks pretty every day? Cuz she really likes that. And it calms her right down if she's in a state."

"I don't find that inappropriate." Jude considered. "If you're comforting a patient, I think that's more of a kindness, Carl." She tapped the table. "We're more referring to misconduct between coworkers. For example, you can tell Miss Boyd she looks pretty because that is a method of treatment for a troubled soul. But you can't tell Sister Mary Eunice that because she is your professional acquaintance."

"But Sister Mary Eunice _is _very pretty every day." Carl winked at the little nun, who tittered.

"Aw, thanks Carl." She blushed.

"No. See? See _this _is exactly what we're referring to!" Timothy held up a finger. "No such commentary among staff."

"But it's just a pleasantry, Monsignor!" Mary Eunice defended Carl, albeit respectfully. "I know Carl didn't mean anything inappropriate."

"Pleasantries can be delivered _without_ undue coercion, physical contact, or recognition of physical appearance." Father Howard insisted. "Watch." He looked at Jude. "Sister. What a lovely day we're having. It's a pleasure to see you this morning."

"Hah!" Frank stabbed a finger at the priest. "See that's where this shit gets murky. Ya still told her it was a pleasure ta see her, implying that you enjoy looking at her."

"I would never!" But the priest's face flushed just the same.

"Here. Watch." Now Frank turned to Jude. "G'morning, Sistah."

"Good morning, Frank." They nodded pleasantly to each other.

"There." Frank continued. "I coulda said somethin' like 'ya got a smokin' hot body in that habit, Sistah,' but I didn't. Capiche?"

"Absolutely inappropriate!" Timothy stood. Jude covered her eyes. "Even as an example, Mr. McCann, you approach both blasphemy and offense with such a statement. Such suggestive conjecture -"

"Conjecture?" Carl interjected. "Hardly!" He gestured to Jude. "She _does_ got a smokin' hot body! Everybody's noticed. I mean - look at her!"

"Carl!" Jude and Frank spoke at once, both standing. "You know?" Jude raised her hands in a calming gesture. "I think this is a perfect time to end today's meeting. Short and sweet, yeah? Read the material. Sign it. Return it to me as soon as possible. I think it is perfectly clear in its message. And then we'll all be on the same page. Literally. Okay?"

"You got it, Sistah." Frank folded his papers and tucked them into his jacket. "I'll get mine back to ya on Monday. I'm off this weekend."

"Oh." Jude looked at him with some mild surprise. "I didn't realize that."

They stared at each other. "Yeah. Henry's runnin' the show this weekend."

"Well. I'm sure we'll muddle through," Jude murmured.

"If ya need me…"

She nodded, swallowed uncomfortably. "Of course."

Timothy Howard was gathering his coat and briefcase. "I'm certain Briarcliff shall survive a weekend without Mr. McCann's expert security measures in place. Sister Jude? I shall meet you momentarily? In our Eunice's garden."

"Yes, Fathah." She began shuffling her own papers. Eunice left quickly, squeezing by the priest in the doorway as if she had a very important date. Carl sauntered out as well, unhurried and no doubt destined to sexually harass someone. So Frank lingered. Predictably. Looking at her. She could _feel _ the look.

"Good meeting," he said.

"Dammit, Frank." She snapped, turning to him. "Stop with the Monsignor! Whatevah is between the two of you -"

"Yer the only thing between the two of us, Jude."

"Nonsense!" She glared. "Just...stop antagonizing him. Okay? Please?"

"Whatever you want, boss." He shrugged. "Ya look really pretty today."

She tried not to laugh. Really, she did. "Shut up, Frank." Headed to the door.

He followed. "Jude."

"What?"

"Take a day off tomorrow." He leaned on the door, preventing her from leaving. "Get outta this hell hole. Lemme take ya to a movie."

"A movie?" She couldn't have hidden the smile if she'd wanted. "God. I haven't seen a movie in…"

"We'll find us a good one." He touched her cheek. Just touched. "And I'll take ya to a nice dinnah." She chewed at her lip. "Or hey! I'll cook fer you fer a change. I slap up a mean steak."

"Frank…" It was so tempting. "That sounds really good."

"We'll just eat and sit on my porch. I gotta nice view of a little creek. Sip on some good bourbon." Her mouth watered. "Listen to some tunes."

"Frank." She shook her head. "I don't think -"

"I promise ya no funny business." He raised his palm. "Hand ta God. I won't kiss ya or touch ya or…"

"Or?" Her brow raised. "Are ya tryin' ta talk me out of this or into it, Frank?"

"Jude." His eyes darkened. "You know I'd nevah disrespect ya."

"I know."

"But I'd sure as hell make sure yer satisfied."

"Oh…" Her knees weakened a little. "That - that might be bordering on a sexual harassment, Frank." She whispered.

He whispered back, just over her ear. "That's a sexual promise, Jude." She whimpered. He stepped away, a little sad. "I know ya got...a lot on yer plate. Smells and stuff. Just…" A self-conscious wave. "Call me if ya want out fer a while. Kay?"

"Right." Jude patted his firm arm, still fighting a very pleased smile. Frank left with a similar expression.

"You handled that well."

She turned to the deep melodic voice behind her. "What? The meeting, or the invitation?"

"Both."

"Well." She hugged the folder to her chest. "Thanks. But...I can't go on a date with my head of security, Mr. Stein."

"Even though you very much want to?"

Jude sighed softly, smiled like a girl. "You know me so well, Reuben."

Reuben's large, clawed paw folded over her shoulder as he pulled her in for a half hug. "I may know you even better than you know yourself, my dearest Judy."

She tilted up - happy in this embrace - and kissed his furry, puffy cheek. His grey coat bristled with joy and he chittered. "I have no doubt about that. Meanwhile, what do I do about this dreadful funk?"

The giant squirrel shrugged, easily as tall as Jude. "Who's to say?" A claw scratched at his head beneath his yarmulke. "Perhaps it will clear up on its own." He ruffled her head playfully and she squirmed. "Don't you have another date now?"

"A date?" She looked at the squirrel, confused, before realization dawned. "Oh! The Monsignor! The garden! I have ta go!" She had sprinted out the door before she twirled on one foot back to her furry friend. "Reuben?" His tufted ears perked and he pushed up his wire rim glasses. "Thanks."

He waved her away. "Have fun, Judy. I'll see you later."


	4. The Garden

_**Let's step beyond smut for a moment. I mean - let's get biblical. All verses in this chapter are from 'The Song of Songs' or 'The Song of Solomon' in the Old Testament. And if you'd like an epic choral soundtrack to accompany this journey, I recommend Dieterich Buxtehude's "Cantata VI: Vulnerasti cor meum," although any of the cantatas in that particular arrangement could work. VI is simply my favorite.**_

The weather was truly delightful. Timothy Howard breathed in the fresh air as he left the stifling confines of Briarcliff. That horrible smell was a plague. But here - in the quiet behind the building - he found peace. The sun shone warm and bright, spring making her presence known. A rustle from the trees of the surrounding forest.

He closed his eyes, and simply basked in God's love.

"Did you see that?!" A shout rocked his peace.

"Sister Mary Eunice!" The girl streaked by him, a rush of black. "Where are you going? The garden -"

"I have to catch him, Father!" The novice squealed, turning excited paces ahead. "The white rabbit! Did you see him? He went this way!"

"Sister! Wait!" But she was already gone, disappeared past the garden plot and around back of the garage. "What is happening?" He murmured to himself. And where was Sister Jude? She was supposed to have joined him. He scowled, supposing she was held up by _him_. Frank McCann. The security guard...with his disarming smile and strapping arms.

Sinful, to feel such jealousy. After all, McCann was just a man. And Jude - Jude was a rara avis. The holiness within her spoke to the holiness within Timothy. So while her past may have colluded with that _man's_, her present - and her future - colluded only with Timothy's. They were meant to be together; wed in the eyes of God to Christ and to the Holy Virgin. Timothy's Jude was incorruptible.

As was he. Despite what his early morning dreams might reveal to him - the delicious temptations the subconscious could create; Jude in satin, in nothing at all, in his lap, in his bed. Challenges. Tasks set forth by the Holy master to overcome! To forge a strength! Flesh and fantasy versus the spirit and virtue. And spirit and virtue? Well, those would always win the battle.

He moved on, hoping and assuming Jude would join him in time. He would be bitterly disappointed (though he may never admit it) if she didn't join him at all.

Indeed, the ice house foundation was cleared out nicely. A fine sizeable plot now packed with healthy, dark soil. Tilled and clean. Smiling, he knelt to test the dirt. It was warm and moist. Yes, definitely ready for planting - for plowing.

He rose at the sound of a woman's voice. Ears and curiosity piqued by familiar verse. "_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love me, we will run after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine: the upright love thee."_

The voice was comely. Alluring. And the _Song of Songs_ always a beautiful passage to behold. Timothy followed the voice, stepping through the soft fertile soil of Eunice's garden. The deep, rich tone grew louder as he neared the spreading apple tree. And how peculiar… His eyes narrowed on the blankets spread beneath the tree - lush, velvet in scarlet and aubergine. Pillows of gold and argent beckoned him with their thick tassels. Clumsily, he snapped a twig and the voice stopped.

He paused, too, and encouraged the mysterious woman's continuation himself. "_I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver._"

A low chuckle. From the other side of the apple trees wide, gnarled trunk. And there, the barest hint of an elbow - a creamy arm. "Hello?" Timothy stepped toward her, ducking beneath the low, heavily fruited limbs.

Her honeyed voice continued its recitation. "_While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof. A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts._"

The tree's trunk was aged and rough beneath his fingers. He stepped gingerly around the blankets, and twisted to meet "Jude!"

He could only have known it was Jude because he had known her this way so many times in those early morning dreams. As a wife of Solomon. As a Delilah. Sweet tempting Jezebel as depicted perhaps by Rosetti. Wrapped in Titian red velvet - a gilt clasp on one shoulder and the rest tied in satin cord, a satin cord brushing a leg longer than the Gospel of Luke. As if God had given him a gift to be unwrapped at his leisure…

"Fathah." She smiled a berry-stained seduction at him, a finger lingering in her lips. "I was waiting far ya."

"Jude…" He couldn't stop staring at her leg. At her bared shoulder. The curves disappearing beneath velvet. The cache of creamy skin at his disposal.

She giggled, eyes cast in shadow beneath a half veil of loose golden curls. "Go on," she said. "You know the rest."

He cleared his throat. "_Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea, pleasant: also our bed is green. The beams of our house are cedar, and our rafters of fir."_

"_As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste._" She purred, gesturing to the tree above them. As though by magic, a bright, perfect carmine apple appeared in her fingers when they slid from the leaves. "Hm?" She offered, licking her lips. He shook his head, still not quite processing this entire scenario. "_Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me."_

She bit the apple, eyes never leaving his. "Mmm!" She exclaimed, a graceful hand - nails painted sanguine - caught the liquid dripping from her chin. "Juicy."

His mouth watered. When she extended the apple again, his knees felt weak. So he simply sunk into plush pillows. The apple lowered, rested against her exposed thigh. It dripped still, a rivulet of sin streaking down her leg. He could _not_ resist longer. Shuffled toward her. One hand curled around her velvet hip and the other held fast her sticky knee. Powerless, he licked his way up, up...until his lips too encountered the firm fruit.

And he bit. It was bliss he tasted. Bliss he felt, pushing at the velvet until the apple alone hid the fruit of Jude: the most damnable part of her; her lily of the valley. "How does it taste?" She hissed.

"So very sweet," he murmured against her mons. The fur of her tickled his chin.

"Am I as sweet, Fathah?" Her fingers curled in his hair, encouraging with the gentlest push. His tongue parted her cleft and he licked. She gasped. The apple rolled down his back, forgotten.

"You're sweeter, Sister." A kiss on her hot, swollen stamen. He suckled her honey. Her leg curled over his shoulder and her free hand gripped the tree, curls catching on bark.

She moaned pleasure. "Your mouth is a gift from God, Timothy. _My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies._" Abandoned, she caressed his head. He ate her as if she was ambrosia. "Grant me a little death, beloved! Make the angels sing for me!"

His tongue gave gospels to her thick wetness. Sampled her iron. It was Hell's hotness that his fingers sought, plunged in to the seventh circle and she cried out, heaved against the tree. She prayed for release and it was the power of Christ within him that drove him to tender her holiest of holies - to make her quiver so, and thrash like a woman possessed.

When she seized in her resurrection, he pulled her smoothly into blanket. "Jude." He tasted the apple on her lips. Kissed her deeply as his hands tangled in ties and cracked open clasp. She was busy, too, dexterous fingers tossing aside collar and confiscating his cassock.

Naked as Adam and Eve, they rolled and pitched in pillows into she stretched atop him. "Timothy." She pushed against his chest, straddled his slim hips.

"Jude." He clasped her head, met her lust-darkened eyes. "_Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. _My virtue is yours, Sister! My heart and my virtue belong to you."

"I'll show you such pleasure, Timothy!" She adjusted against his hardness, dripping like the apple. "I'll give you such wisdom."

"Yes!" He shouted, sliding inside her. "_Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck. _God! Jude, you feel so good!"

'Yeah?" She was breathless, riding him. Her breasts and curls bounced hypnotically and he held her hips as if he could keep her still. "You do too!" She took his hands, pulled him up to hold her close, to sit with her upon his lap. She ate his mouth, tasted his innocence waning. "Fuck me, Fathah! Make us filthy together! Put the love of God in me."

He rolled them until she lay beneath him, her legs high over his elbows. He drove into her feverishly, fast. Their gasps and groans like hymnals. And when the pleasure caught them up at last - when she milked him like a baby goat - he collapsed against her, weeping.

"Sh, shhh, shh." She shushed him, coddling him. Peppered his face with kisses. "_Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee._"

"What have I done?" He asked in her shoulder. "Christ, Jude, what have we done?"

"What all of His children do, Timothy." She tilted his chin up. "_My beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten thousand. His head is as the most fine gold, his locks are bushy, and black as a raven. His eyes are as the eyes of doves by the rivers of waters, washed with milk, and fitly set. His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers: his lips like lilies, dropping sweet smelling myrrh. His hands are as gold rings set with the beryl: his belly is as bright ivory overlaid with sapphires. His legs are as pillars of marble, set upon sockets of fine gold: his countenance is as Lebanon, excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem." _She kissed his tears. His lips. "Rest, Timothy. Brother. Lover. Sleep, Father."

He nuzzled her breasts, eyes closing despite himself. "_I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night._"

Jude chuckled sweetly. Rolled them until she could curl to his side, holding him. On his back he stared into the canopy of the tree, eyes drifting closed. A motion there caught his eye. In the limbs something pthalo green - a bright flash of red eye. A flicking tongue. It slithered to the top of the tree as Jude slithered against him.

He swallowed. In the Garden of Eden, the Serpent had seen all...and so had God.


	5. Date Night

_**Playlist includes: She's Got You - Patsy Cline; Break it to me Gently - Brenda Lee; Fallin' - Connie Francis; I Wish that We Were Married - Ronnie & the Hi Lites**_

"Judy."

"Hmph."

A gentle clawed paw on her shoulder. "Judy. Wake up."

"Mm-mm."

Deep chuckle. "You've slept far too long. You'll miss your date."

"My date?" Jude sat up on her bed, stretching. She felt a bit out of sorts. "What date?"

Reuben's tufted ears flicked. He plucked her wrinkled wimple from her head, folding it neatly on the bedside table. "I believe your friend Frank is expecting you to call him?"

"Oh!" Her hand covered her mouth. "What...what time is it?"

"Nearly five." The giant squirrel was rifling through her wardrobe. "You were so very tired, I let you sleep straight through the night last night. You had an exhausting week."

"Straight through the night?!" Jude stood now, shocked. Flustered. "But I was supposed to see the garden with the Monsignor!"

"I'm certain he understands." Reuben held up a dress before himself. "Red? You always look so becoming in red. And I like the twirl in this skirt."

"But who will watch ovah Briarcliff?" She held the dress uncertainly. "I can't go on unplanned excursions."

"Judy. You really must take some time to yourself, my dear." Reuben took hold of her shoulders. "I shall watch over the asylum in your absence. I believe everything here is under control. Why don't you have a nice relaxing bath? Curl your hair." He twirled a tangled lock around a fuzzy knuckle. "You'll feel better."

"I think I'm maybe just a little hungry." She rubbed at her head.

"I believe Frank said something about steak?"

Suddenly, she salivated. Yes, she was definitely hungry. And steak sounded delightful. And honestly - Frank sounded delightful, too. "Yes," she murmured, making her way to the en suite. "He did say something about steak…"

"Why don't I call him while you bathe?"

"Oh, Reuben." Jude turned in the bathroom door. "Yar so good to me."

"Well." A squirrel shrug. "You always cared for me. I suppose it's only natural I should seek to return the favor? Now." He nudged her into the bathroom. "Wash up, my girl, while I call your dashing fellow."

Jude grinned like a schoolgirl. She hummed while she bathed. Shaved her legs (not that she expected anything salacious to happen...although maybe she hoped). She preened before the mirror. She primped. Pin curls in a loose chignon. Sheer stockings. Her laciest undies.

At her chest of drawers, she paused, chewing at her lip. Her fingers stroked the escaped strip of sanguine slip, considering. On a whim, she whipped it from the drawer. The dress was a button up in soft cotton. She left the collar open a hint - just a hint - and took a twirl in front of the mirror. She opted for black heels with a slim strap around each ankle. They elongated her legs nicely - not that the really needed to be any longer. But it felt nice to feel sexy.

"Am I right?" Reuben was leaning in her bedroom door. "The loveliest lady I've ever seen."

"Reuben!" She laughed as he spun her beneath his arm.

"Your paramore awaits you downstairs, I believe."

"Already?" A sudden case of nerves. She gripped clawed hands. "I shouldn't do this."

"Are you so afraid of being happy, Judy?" At her blink, Reuben pulled her into a quick, hard hug. "Go, my dear. Leave this misery behind for one night and remember you are alive."

She was a fast click down the stairs, black clutch beneath her arm. And Reuben was right; Briarcliff seemed quiet this evening. She felt confident leaving it in Reuben Stein's capable hands. Well...paws. And when she saw Frank waiting at the bottom of the Stairway to Heaven, all of her concerns evaporated.

Freshly shaven, steely hair newly trimmed, a handsome smile in place, he gave her an openly appreciative once-over and whistled. "Damn, sistah. Turn heads much?"

Shyly, she slow turned on the lowest step. "Not too much."

"Well, ya sure as hell do tanight." He reached for her hand, curled it over his forearm. He wore a soft cotton oxford, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and his skin was warm beneath her fingers.

"You look particularly handsome," she whispered.

"Thanks!" He ushered her out the door. "You just don't see me out of uniform."

"I dunno." Down the steps she clicked, hand still gripping his arm. "I think yar pretty handsome in uniform, too."

"Keep talkin' like that, Jude, and ya just might get lucky tonight." He threw her a wink at the door of his dark blue '57 Chevy.

"Is that a promise?" She asked, lingering in the opened door. How long since she'd flirted?

His jaw tightened with the arm that trapped her between himself and the truck's seat. "Jude…"

"Judy." She boosted a hip onto the leather, leaned into his space. "Please."

"Judy," he repeated lowly, leaned into her space.

An inch from her lips, her fingers stopped his mouth. "It's been a while far me, Frank. But I believe kisses still come _after_ the date?"

"We've kissed once before," he murmured against her fingers.

"But we weren't on a date."

He pulled away, grinning. "Date. Right. Let's go, then." He closed her door, seeing her settled in the passenger seat safely. Behind the wheel, he glanced at her before starting the engine. "Hope ya like movies."

"I _love_ movies." And she did. She'd always loved the silver screen: the fantasy, the romance, the drama. Elaborate costumes and glamorous stars. She was trying to recall the last secular movie she'd watched. When was that? '49? '50? Before the Convent…

"What's yer favorite?" Frank asked, driving through Briarcliff's imposing gates. The radio serenaded their drive, a low hum in the background.

_I've got your picture_

_That you gave to me_

_And it's signed with love_

_Just like it used to be_

_The only thing different_

_The only thing new_

_I've got your picture_

_She's got you_

"Um...I was just tryin' ta remember the last one I saw, actually." A little embarrassing. "I think it was..._Beyond the Forest_? Or was it _Bride for Sale_?"

"Oh, Betty Grable!" Frank shook his head. "She's somethin' else, I tell ya."

"Yeah?" Jude gave him a playful scowl, turning to face him in her seat. "Is she now?"

Frank chuckled, signalling to turn onto the highway. "I used ta think so. But I'm startin' ta believe you could give her a run for her money anyday, Judy."

_I've got the records_

_That we used to share_

_And they still sound the same_

_As when you were here_

_The only thing different_

_The only thing new_

_I've got the records_

_She's got you_

"Aw, Frank." She blushed, then suddenly shouted: "_Flamingo Road!" _He startled at her exclamation. "That's the last movie I saw. With Joan Crawford."

"Really?" At a stop sign, Frank turned to her. "Ya like Joan Crawford?"

_I've got your memory_

_Or, has it got me_

_I really don't know_

_But I know, it won't let me be_

Jude shrugged. "Always thought she was a good actress. Why? You think she was somethin' else, too?" She poked his rib.

"Ah-ah!" He swatted her hand. "As a matter of fact, she's in one of the movies playin' at the Odeon tanight. _Whatever Happened to Baby Jane_. Got Bette Davis, too. Looks um...interesting."

"Well. I like both of them, so that sounds like a winnah ta me."

"According to all the newspapers right now, they're having some kinda big feud in Hollywood."

Jude shrugged. "Probly somethin' cooked up ta sell movies."

"Yeah. Hollywood seems like it can be pretty fucked up sometimes."

_I've got your class ring_

_That proved you cared_

_And it still looks the same_

_As when you gave it, dear_

_The only thing different_

_The only thing new_

_I've got these little things_

_She's got you_

Downtown Boston was Saturday night busy. They managed to find a parking spot behind the theatre just in time for it to fill up. And Frank was quite obviously pleased to have Jude on his arm. As he'd predicted, she did turn some heads. "We make a good lookin' couple," she told him in the concession line.

"I think it's just you, doll." He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her in from a group of children who ran by. "Popcorn?" She nodded, throat (and other anatomy) tightened by his embrace. Her mouth had been watering for popcorn since they'd entered the theatre. The smell of it filled the entire lobby.

On their way into the darkened theatre, Frank started to pull away. Jude took hold of his arm, keeping it wrapped around her waist. She enjoyed his deep blush and pleased smile. They sank into plush velvet seats, settling popcorn bucket and cold pops. During the cartoon, Jude leaned close to his ear. "Thanks far takin' me out, Frank. This is perfect."

"Already perfect?" He asked. His breath tickled her ear. "The movie hasn't even started. What if it's a real stink bomb?"

In the flickering light, Jude met his darkened eyes. "It doesn't mattah." She kissed his cheek lightly and settled her head on his shoulder, missed the moisture that gathered in his eyes.

But the movie was fantastic. Jude was captivated, hung on every word. Bette Davis' batshit performance as an unhinged adult child star was the perfect foil to smooth-toned Joan Crawford as the beautiful debilitated starlet sister. Frank watched the whole movie with his mouth hanging open, clearly stymied by the unique and unexpected storyline. Their buttery fingers occasionally brushed in the popcorn bucket, slick digits moving against one another and she couldn't help imagining his buttery lips on hers just that slick, or their bodies buttered by sweat mingling the way their fingers did - wrapped in crisp, clean sheets, the coolness a stark contrast to the burn of every hot thrust in her swollen cunt and his strong hands gripping her hips as -

"Judy? You comin'?"

"Yes!" The popcorn bucket toppled when she shouted, slapping her hand over her unthinking mouth. She looked up to see Frank's arm extended. Crowds milled around them and the credits rolled on. "Oh. Sorry."

"Ya okay?" He took her arm again, pressing close as they herded through the thick crowd.

"I'm fine." She fanned herself a little, suddenly sweltering.

"Let's get ya some air." Frank steered her outside, hand slipping a little lower on her hip. "Bettah?" He asked her.

"Yeah. Yeah, Frank. I'm fine." What would he think of her if he knew? If he knew that pious and devoted Sister Jude the Disciplinarian Nun who knelt before God and her Monsignor was really raunchy and lustful Judy Martin the ex-whore who would gladly kneel before Frank and take his hard cock in her mouth and swallow his thick spendings like communion wine.

"Well, I hope ya didn't fill up on popcorn, beautiful." He helped her into the truck. "Cuz I got two thick ribeyes at the house just waitin' ta sizzle up."

Her stomach growled. "That sounds wonderful, Frank."

Frank's house was far from what she expected. Not a tiny bachelor's apartment, but a well-groomed craftsman with gardenias out front lining a white picket fence. "Frank." She took in her surroundings as he led her up the front steps. "This is a beautiful place you have." There was a time - long ago, it seemed - when this very house would have been her dream house, complete with husband and 2.5 kids and family dog.

"Ya like it?" He unlocked the door. "Thanks, Judy. It was my folks' place. After they died, I felt like I oughta keep it up, ya know?" It was clean. Very clean. And neat. If she hadn't known already from his file, she would have guessed his military background from his housekeeping. Simple. Lamps where lamps were needed. Dark wood floors worn but polished. Walls painted plainly in a tasteful dusty blue. Side tables clear of clutter. A cutaway from the den revealed a pristine, steel kitchen. Maybe it needed a woman's touch here and there, but she felt incredibly selfish and a little surprised thinking such a thing. "Have ya a seat. I'm gonna get these steaks started. How about a baked potato?"

Instead of sitting on the plaid couch he'd offered, she followed him, leaning in the kitchen doorway. "I can't believe yar cookin' far me."

"You cook for me enough, dontcha?" There was a little grey melamine Zenith on the counter by the fridge. He flicked it on while foil-wrapping two potatoes, seemed comfortable before his gas range. "I think it's about time I paid ya back." Pulled steaks from the sleek refrigerator.

_Break it to me gently, let me down that easy way _

_Make me feel you still love me if it's just, just for one more day _

_Break it to me gently so my tears, my tears won't fall too fast _

_If you must go, then go slowly, let me love you 'till then_

"I don't know too many men who can cook." She sat at the little formica table, touched a daisy in the vase there. Bobbed along to Brenda Lee.

"I'm a bachelor. What can I say?" He shrugged. "If I don't do it, who will? Wanna drink? I mean, I know yer a nun and all, so if you don't -"

"Ya said somethin' about a nice bourbon, I believe?"

_The love we've shared oh so long, it's a tender part of me _

_If you must take your love away, take it gradually_

He pulled a dusty bottle from a cupboard over the sink. "I uh - only pull this one out fer special occasions." He poured a finger of rich, brown liquid into two tumblers and handed her one. Straddled the chair across from her as they sipped slowly, relishing the heat and oaky flavor. "By the way…" He toyed with the rim of his glass, looking down. "I cook up a mean breakfast, too. Just sayin'."

_And break it to me gently, give me time, oh give me a little time to ease the pain _

_If you must go, then go slowly, 'cause I'll never love again_

"Frank." She stilled his hand on his glass with her own. "_I'll_ cook the breakfast." Tried a seductive smile. "I don't mind...reciprocating."

He swallowed hard. "Christ, Judy."

She chuckled. "Got an ashtray?"

_I got to feelin' I'm a'fallin'_

_Like a star up in the blue,_

_Like I was fallin' off Niagara_

_In a paddle-boat canoe_

They moved to the back porch. Brought the Zenith. Smoked and drank on a hanging swing, Jude swaying them a bit with her heels on the concrete. The moon was full, and away from the city lights, stars glimmered brightly. Fireflies occasionally lit the wafting jasmine on his back ence. Perfect. "Why didn't ya evah get married?" She asked.

"Nevah found the right lady."

"I can't believe that." She stretched her legs across his lap, settling a brown cushion behind her back. "Any woman would be lucky ta have a good man like you."

_I got to feelin' I'm a'fallin'_

_And it's all because of you_

_Like I was walkin' on a tightrope,_

_Swingin' in the breeze,_

_And though I try to keep my balance_

_Yeah I weaken in the knees_

He looked slightly torn. Thinking about stroking her legs. Thinking about trying his best to ignore them. She could tell he was struggling with his morals, but she _longed_ for him to touch them. "I dunno about that." He drained his bourbon. "Seems like most of the ladies I've known aren't lookin' fer a good guy. Does that make sense?"

Jude sighed. "No, it doesn't make sense. But I know what yar sayin'. I've seen it." He finally rested a cool hand on her ankle, index finger toying with the strap. She could have purred like a kitten.

_I got to feelin' I'm a'fallin'_

_Lover, help me please_

_Like a leaf falls from a branch,_

_Like a rock-slide avalanche,_

_Like the rain on a stormy day,_

_I never thought I'd fall this way_

_I thought that love could never touch me,_

_Yeah I was ridin' high_

_And then my ivory tower toppled_

_And I tumbled from the sky_

"Guess I wasn't rich enough. Or good lookin' enough." He smirked. "Good sense of humor doesn't get ya as far as it once did, I reckon." A deep breath. "I'll tell ya this much. I nevah imagined havin' a lady like you stretched out across my lap."

"I nevah imagined a fella as nice as you wantin' anything ta do with the likes of me." She confessed. "I nevah exactly been a lady."

"Yeah, you were. Ya just nevah had anybody treat ya like one."

She chuffed lightly. "Yar right about that, Frank."

"Can I ask ya a question, Judy?"

"Sure." The bourbon was warming her nicely in the spring cool. Loosening her tongue.

"What the hell made a woman like you into a nun?"

"Mistakes." Her eyes told his she didn't want to say much more about it, and he respected them with a nod.

"Made a few of those, myself." He cleared his throat. "Evah think about...leavin' it?"

Complicated questions… She smiled softly, touched at her coif. "I'm a faithful woman, Frank. Ta God - in my own way. Ta the Church. My sistahs. Ta Briarcliff."

"Ta the Monsignor?" He didn't look at her. Still played with the strap on her shoe, traced the edge around her foot and toes.

"He has a strong belief in me. Far some damn reason." She bit her lip, as much at the sensations his fingers were creating as at the subject matter they discussed. "I know ya don't care fer him."

"Understatement."

"But I need ta see this thing through. Ta see Briarcliff flourish. I need ta...ta do something _good_ in the world, Frank."

He nodded, seeming to understand. "I think ya could do a hell of a lot more good than ya give yerself credit for, Judy. With or without Briarcliff. Here." He tapped her foot, brought their heart to heart to a close. "Potatoes should be about ready. I'm gonna fry up our steaks."

She was reluctant to let him go, despite her stomach's now noisy requests for sustenance. And again, she followed him, grabbing the Zenith from the porch rail. "Need my help with anything?"

"I need you ta sit at that table and let me impress ya with my kitchen expertise." He produced a meat fork and a spatula. "Unless you'd like ta pour up another finger of that bourbon fer us."

She did so, sauntering his over to the stove where she perched against his sink. Steaks sizzled onto hot cast iron and she raised a brow. "I'm duly impressed."

"Let's just hope my marinade holds up to yar exacting standards. Cheers, Judy." They clinked glasses while mouth-watering meat cooked.

He set the table. Poured her an iced tea. Tossed a green salad. Served her a hot plate. She smiled through all of it, the smile growing exponentially as he hummed along to the stereo.

_I wish that we were married_

_So we'd never, never, never, never say "Goodbye"_

_I'm glad we're going steady_

_But I wish the time would fly_

Finally, he sat, handed her a cloth napkin. "Bone appetite!" He toasted her with his tea, and their concentration turned to food.

_I wish that we were married_

_And I know you wish it, too_

_'cause when I have to leave you_

_We both feel so lonely and blue (so blue)_

"Mmmm." Jude closed her eyes. "Frank. This steak is…" She breathed, thinking of the right word. "..._fucking_ incredible." It was all she could come up with.

He laughed. "I'm glad ya like it." But the delight at pleasing her was evident on his features. He lit at her compliment, and the knowledge she'd pleased him somehow pleased her in return. Somewhere between the porch and the buttery baked potato, she'd realized how genuinely happy she was. And how long it had been since she'd felt that way.

"Reuben was right," she murmured, not thinking.

_Two kids can know what love is_

_They can cry all through the night _

_Yes, we know _

_We know how it feels to be lonely_

_To cry , cry , cry_

"Right about what?" Frank asked.

She poked at a potato remnant. "I think...far a long time now, I've been scared ta be happy, Frank."

"Now why is that?"

"I think I can't fargive myself. Far a mistake I made a long time ago. A really terrible mistake."

"That ya don't wanna talk about."

_I know, I know we'd be so happy_

_If we never, never, never, never have to part_

_I wish that we were married_

_Yes, I wish it with all my heart_

She gathered herself. Drank the last of her tea. Shook off the malaise. "No. I don't wanna talk about anything from the past tonight. No more."

"Good!" He slid back from the table. "Cuz I've got dessert."

"Dessert?!" He couldn't be serious. She was nearly stuffed from dinner. Pretty certain she wouldn't have room for - "Oh." He removed their plates to drop the cake center of the table. "Is that chocolate?"

"It is." He rubbed the back of his neck before slicing it. "I have ta confess it came out of a box. I'm pants at baking."

"But you baked it." Her heart melted completely when he dropped the fork on the saucer before her.

"Ladies seem ta like chocolate." He busied at the stove for a moment. "Coffee?" Poured from a silver percolator. Cream and sugar.

She was speechless. Something in her throat was heavy. She swallowed it. The coffee mug was comforting her cold fingers. "Thank you, Frank."

"It's a little dry." He said, chewing cake.

"I don't mean far the cake."

"I know."

Actually, the cake was delicious. Spongy and warm. His icing wasn't too sweet or too thick. And the coffee was good. "Frank."

"Yeah?"

"Ya might be the perfect man."

He laughed deeply, richly. "Judy. I think it's been waaay too long since you been on a date."

She laughed, too, tucking a curl behind her ear. Frank broached the next subject politically. "I've uh - kept ya out real late."

"Is it late?" She watched him over the rim of her cup. Knew it was late. Nearly midnight now.

"Very."

"I see." She set her cup aside. "I suppose the perfectly gentlemanly thing ta do would be ta take me back ta Briarcliff and walk me ta my door with a precious good night peck on the cheek."

"If that's what pleases you, Judy. I'll -"

"_Or_," she stressed, cutting him off. Lowered her voice about an octave. "You could be perfectly ungentlemanly. And offer to show me the bedroom."

"Judy," he rasped.

"Maybe you can find out what _really _pleases me."

The window was cracked in his bedroom, gentle breeze nudging the embroidered curtains. His bed was crisply made, turned down on the corner, inviting. And he was nervous. "Judy. Don't think ya have ta -"

"Help me?" She sat on the turned down duvet, offering him a foot.

His hands were shaking charmingly when he flicked open the strap. "I just don't want ya to feel like ya owe me anything. I'm not that kinda man." He took hold of her other foot, and she used it to pull him into her space.

"Frank." Her fingers folded around his jaw, sliding to the back of his neck. "I want ya ta make love to me tonight." A light, gentle kiss. "All night." She deepened the kiss. "Then again befar breakfast." He stepped between her legs, kissed her harder. "And after breakfast." His lips traveled to her neck. The other shoe dropped.

They undressed quietly in the muted moonlight, rolling one another across the bed to remove every article of clothing until just their skin separated them one from the other - and that only barely. Her fingers wanted to memorize every muscular inch of him as his mouth wanted to memorize every inch of her. _Every_ inch. Blissfully. She arched into his deliberate explorations, thrilling to the scrape of 5 o'clock shadow in her thighs. "Oh, Frank!" She bit her lip.

"So sweet, Jude," he murmured, dipping again. "Bettah than my cake."

"Ah! Stop!" It wasn't that she didn't want the pleasure he was confidently delivering. She just wanted more. Needed it. "Frank, please. I want you inside me!"

He complied, holding her head steady to keep eye contact. He needed to gauge her reactions, her desires. He was an attentive lover; sweet, gentle, and dedicated to her fulfilment. Magnanimous to Jude's stubbornness. He felt so good - she never wanted to give up the moment. He pressed her. "Judy. Baby. I ain't as young as I used ta be."

"Just a little longer," she whined. Her legs wrapped his waist.

"Nah nah nah." He rolled them, putting her in control. "Do yer thing, baby. Make us both feel good togethah."

She pulled him up until he sat, cradling her in his thighs and holding her to him tightly. She undulated against him, used him to their end, buried her face in his neck when the wave broke inside her, and felt him swept up in her tide. Their breathy gasps and moans answered the crickets and the nightbirds outside - made them a part of that animal kingdom.

And in the stillness of after - the kissing, caressing, cherishing moments - they found themselves softly laughing. "What?" Jude asked, smile beatific.

"Nothin'." He pressed his forehead to hers.

"Somethin'." She nudged his nose.

"I think…" He sighed, closing his earnest eyes. "I think I love ya, Judy."

"Oh hell, Frank." She took a deep breath and leaned backward in his embrace. "I'm bad at love."

"Can't blame me fer tryin'."

"Fallin' in love is...it's a scary damn thing."

"It ain't fallin' if ya got somebody there ta catch ya."

"You'd catch me?" She rubbed his cheeks with her thumbs.

"I'd nevah let ya go."

"Never?"

"Judy." Suddenly serious, he rolled them into his pillows, still holding her. "Leave that shit hole. I mean in it." When she rolled her eyes, he spoke over her beginning protestations. "Come on here and live with me. This house needs ya. _I _need ya."

"Frank. We don't _need_ anybody."

"Well, I _want_ ya. How's that. Forevah, Judy. Look at me." She stared at his ceiling. "Look at me!" She finally did, eyes wet. "Listen." He took her hand. "Fuckin' marry me."

"What?!" She scrambled onto her elbow, extracting herself sloppily from his arms. He grappled with her, attempting to hold her. "Frank! You've lost yer mind!"

"What are ya gonna do? Commit me? Would ya sit the fuck still fer a minute?"

She did. Sat up, sheet to her chest, a hand in her mussed hair. "Don't talk crazy."

"Is it so crazy? Yer miserable there. I'm miserable there." He sat up, too. "I got a buddy who's wanted me ta come work fer him fer years now. A supervisory position over a team of twenty-five good guys. Security at the military base. The pay is stellar, Judy. I'd really be able to support ya, ta -"

"Frank. If you've had this opportunity, why the hell are ya still at Briarcliff, anyway?"

He stared at her as if the answer should have been quite obvious. And perhaps it should have been. "Cuz of you, Judy. Why the hell else?"

"Me?" She clutched the sheet between her breasts, stopping her heart from hammering out of her chest. "Frank…"

"Don't think fer a second I ain't serious. I can have a ring tomorrow. We'll go out togetha and pick exactly what ya want. Monday mornin' we'll get the papers and I don't care after that, Judy." He shrugged, grinning. "You want a big wedding? Big cake and rice and all that? You got it. We can - we can be engaged fer a while if ya want. It doesn't mattah. We can have a honeymoon. I always said after the war that I'd go back ta Paris when I wasn't bein' shot at." He chuckled. "You'd love Paris. We can -"

"Frank." He hadn't noticed she was crying. When he saw it, his shoulders fell.

"I guess it _is_ crazy, huh?" He swallowed thickly, looking into his lap. Suddenly conscientious, he pulled the sheet over himself.

Jude sniffled. She reached for his hands, pulled them out of the way to snuggle into his lap. He folded her up. "Are you serious?"

"Hand ta God."

She wiped her snotty face on the sheet. Murmured into his chest. "Then ask me properly, asshat!"

He took her shoulders, straightening her. She faced him, barely holding a grin behind a shaking hand. "Judy…" He gestured, wanting.

"Martin," she supplied.

He cleared his throat. "Judy Martin. Will you marry me? Ah!"

"Yes!" They nearly rolled off the bed when she tackled him.

In his bathtub, they lounged and Frank studied Jude's fingers. "These'll look pretty with a big ol' diamond on 'em."

"Not too big," she whispered.

"Big enough so that all the othah fellas know the business."

She chuckled. The water sloshed when she turned against him. "So. Is your plan far us to charge into Briarcliff tomorrow, throw down our resignations, and dance out the front doors?"

"Somethin' like that." He stroked her shoulders, flicked a wet curl off her neck. "How um...how d'you think the Monsignor's gonna take it?"

She scowled at him. "Like you care."

He grinned. "I care about how _you_ are gonna take it. I know ya...ya have a relationship with him-"

"A professional relationship."

"Of course! But I know he's made ya a lot of promises."

"I have ta choose a life I always wanted, Frank."

"He can take ya ta Rome."

"You can take me ta Paris." She shrugged. "I have ta choose love, Frank. Cuz I always wanted it. I have ta choose happiness far once. Far always."

"Love, Judy?" He poked her rib and she squirmed.

She stood. He watched her wrap a towel around herself. "Love, Frank." She tugged his hand. "Come on back ta bed. I said all night."

"We got a big day ahead of us," he warned, slipping into her towel with her.

"We got a whole life ahead of us."

When they (finally) slept that night - cocooned in each others' arms as surely as they were in each others' dreams - they slept a sleep of promise. A sleep of peace. Happiness. A sleep of love.

And Jude could have slept on that way forever...


	6. Eunice in Wonderland

**_This is going to be a two-part chapter. Sorry. There's just too much to squeeze in! Playlist: White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane; The Mountain Song - Donovan; Happy Together - The Turtles. _**

Sister Mary Eunice (neé Eunice Mckee) was stewing. Literally. It was hot as hell in Briarcliff's library, and that odious funk wasn't helping. It had been inescapable for two days now - an insidious combination of sewage and something sharp like alcohol. Intolerable. She sighed, glancing out the window to the beginnings of her garden below. She wished she could be there, hands dirty in the fresh air and cool soil. Tilling in the spring instead of toiling in these dusty shelves. But...there was work to do, as usual.

"Are you done with those magazines, Pepper?" The Pinhead was humming, mooning again over the same old issue of TIME. Eunice took it gently. "Come on. I'll take you to the common room. I have to meet with Sister Jude and the Monsignor." She dreaded the staff meeting, honestly, but at least she'd be entertained (secretly) by Carl and Frank. They were always funny, even if to Jude's chagrin. In fact, maybe that was the funniest part.

Pepper giggled suddenly, pointing just past Eunice. "What?" Eunice turned just in time to see something white and fluffy wriggle behind a filing cabinet beneath the window. "Pepper! Did you see that?!" She grabbed the pinhead's shoulders excitedly.

"Bunny!" Pepper cried, grinning like a fool.

"You _did_ see it!" The little nun couldn't contain a victorious grin. "I _knew _it! See? This explains the smell! There are rabbits in Briarcliff! Come on." She ushered Pepper through the door. "I'll tell them at the meeting. I know they'll think I'm crazy, but you saw it too, Pepper!" On the way to the common room, she rationalized. "I mean. You _are_ crazy. So...I don't know if that really qualifies _me_ as being not crazy for seeing the same thing you saw, but…" A frustrated huff. "Well. We believe in crazier things, don't we? Like...invisible omnipotent forces and zombie saviors with the power of forgiveness." A shrug as she settled Pepper at a table. The strains of _Dominique_ serenaded the patients. Everything looked surprisingly peaceful. "Why don't you play a game with Dolly?" Eunice rifled through the stack of board games nearby. Dolly shuffled over, smiling shyly at Pepper.

"Candyland!" Pepper shouted, clapping.

"Alright." Eunice calmly set up the game board. "Candyland it is." She patted Pepper's scratchy head fondly. "Have fun, you two!"

On the Stairway to Heaven - just before the landing - she paused. Peered over the top step. No rabbit. Scowled. "If I catch it, I'll put it in a box. They'll have to believe me if they see it." She wondered if Jude might let her keep it. A bunny. She smiled. Then frowned. Probably not. Her mentor was trying desperately to prepare her for the rigors of running an institution. Not exactly keen on girlish ideas or flights of fancy. That's why Eunice knew the rabbit thing wouldn't go over well in the first place.

Outside the door to the meeting room, she took a deep breath, steeled herself and went inside. It was as bas as she'd thought it would be. Infernal as usual, but today it was hot and stifling to boot. And it stunk to high Heaven. Jude was testy and impatient. Frank was his typical foul-mouthed and argumentative self. Carl made the usual inappropriate jokes. And the Monsignor was newly embittered. Mainly toward Frank. Eunice suspected it had something to do with the fact that Jude and Frank had breakfast together every morning. And that...thing that had happened a few nights ago. With the kissing. But surely the Monsignor couldn't know about _that_? Only Eunice knew about that. Well. And Frank and Jude. But that's because they'd been the ones kissing.

Or at least it sounded like kissing. Eunice was pretty sure it was kissing. There wasn't enough sloppy sounding slapping for it to have been more than kissing. Briefly, she wondered what kissing felt like…

And yes. Jude thought the rabbit thing was utter nonsense.

Eunice couldn't escape the meeting fast enough. She couldn't wait to be in her garden again, and she was excited to show off her work to Sister Jude and Father Howard. She hoped they would be pleased to see that the project would be a success. She really just wanted to please them, after all.

And God, of course.

And everybody else in the world.

But in the kitchen, something fuzzy. "Oh!" Eunice squeezed past a cook. "Look! Did you see that?" The rabbit scurried underneath the sink.

"What are you talking about?" The fat cook clearly had _not_ seen it. But Pepper had. So it was real.

"Move!" She'd never been quite so firm, so forceful. Sister Jude would have been proud. On her knees, she scanned beneath the sink. A clanking near the door snapped her attention. "There!" She darted around the corner, following a low counter. An orderly slipped in the back door and the flash of white fur slipped out. "No!" Eunice nearly ran the orderly over as she rushed out after it.

And there - on the bottom step - she saw it clearly for the first time. A stark white rabbit - bigger than any she'd ever seen before. It stood on its hind legs, nose twitching, looking at...a watch?

And honestly the fact that it held a pocket watch should have been a secondary shock to the fact that it wore a rather smart grey vest and red bow tie. "Hey!" Eunice shouted.

It saw her. And bolted. "No! Don't be scared! I won't hurt you!" She gave chase. Around the edge of the back entrance. Between two bakery vans. "I - I just wanna put you in a box!" She panted, leapt over a flat of empty bread trays. "I'll use a nice box!"

Her garden came into view. The rabbit dashed across it. The Monsignor stood there near the apple tree. "Sister Mary Eunice!" He greeted.

"Did you see that?" She didn't slow, but sped past him. "Get - get a box, Father! But a nice one!" He may not have even heard her. She'd never run so fast in her life, past the garage, through the ruins of the old greenhouse. The rabbit wriggled through some fallen beams and Eunice climbed over the rubble, nearly grazing the white fluff with her foot. "Wait!"

"I'm late!" The rabbit muttered, breathless itself.

"Did you - did you just talk?" A talking rabbit - with or without vest and watch - was even better than a non-talking rabbit. Sister Jude would lose her shit. "They'll believe me now," Eunice swore, tearing through the hedgerow that separated Briarcliff's grounds from surrounding forest.

She heard the skittering of rabbit feet through dried leaves and watched a fluffy tail disappear inside a hollowed out oak. "Perfect." She screeched to a halt before the tree, nearly tripping over a large, gnarled root. "You're trapped."

The tree was obviously old. It was enormous. Towering. She couldn't even wrap her arms around it completely. And the hollow in its trunk was just as sizeable. She hoped that the Monsignor was fetching that box (a nice one) as she crawled into the black void in the wood. "Oh." It was way roomier than she'd expected. Seemed to be an earthy sort of tunnel, actually…

"Where'd you go?" She asked, hands feeling ground and wood. "I was kidding about the box." She fibbed. "I just want to - woah!"

So quickly, so unexpectedly, she was falling. Just falling and falling. It felt like forever. And then it felt sort of like floating for a moment, which was almost nice. But then it was definitely falling again and that wasn't nice at all. And then - "Oooph!"

She landed on her butt. On something relatively soft. "Um…" Her fingers felt beneath her rear. A mushroom. A really big mushroom. "Oh, my." Above her, the tiniest pinprick of light. "How will I ever get back up there?"

"That's a very good question."

"What?" She glanced about in the darkness. "Who said that?"

A lilting chuckle. "A question for the ages, really. How will we ever get anywhere? Any of us?"

The pinprick of light grew exponentially with Eunice's eyes and pupils. She gasped at what unfolded before her: A whole sort of world, really. More trees within this tree. An underground forest… And in the tree closest to her: "Pepper?!"

The pinhead lounged on a high limb. "Hello," she chimed.

"What...what are you doing here?"

"Another question for the ages, I'm afraid." She dropped suddenly from the limb, swinging by her knees and grinning hugely. "You're just full of questions, aren't you?" Her gown had dropped nearly over her face, revealing a pair of bright purple striped bloomers.

Eunice scratched her head, now completely torn. And so was her wimple, she discovered. "Ohhh," she groaned, inspecting the material. "Sister Jude is gonna kill me." She tugged the fabric apart at the nearly destroyed seam and tied the white band around a makeshift ponytail. "That's the third wimple this month."

"Least of your worries." Peper swung on her branch. "I thought you were more concerned about-"

"The rabbit!" Eunice rushed toward Pepper. "Did you see it again?"

"I did."

"Which way did it go?"

Pepper pointed behind herself. "It went...that way."

"Thank you so much, Pepper. Really." Eunice patted the pinhead as she scurried past. "You should um...you should get back to Briarcliff. Sister Jude will be so mad…"

But she didn't look back at Pepper. Wasn't sure if she'd heeded the warning or not. Couldn't care really. She was hot on the trail of that rabbit. And there were several trails, apparently. When she reached a four-way, she scratched her head. There were some makeshift signs - arrows reading Her Way, My Way, More This Way, and Less That Way. "Peculiar…" Eunice considered. She had no idea which way was Her Way. And More This Way simply sounded like more than she could handle already. But Less That Way might not be enough. She shrugged. "Guess I'll go My Way." So she did.

And after a few minutes, that way seemed pretty promising. The trail was nice and clear, and there were some lovely flowers about. Not to mention, she was pretty sure she heard music. Seemed like a pretty good idea to follow it.

_One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small_

_And the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all_

_Go ask Alice, when she's ten feet tall_

The music grew louder and louder and suddenly - there was a quaint picket fence all covered with thick yellow honeysuckle. She inhaled its scent greedily - the best thing she'd smelled in days - and wrapped her fingers around the snail-shaped latch on the gate. Sounded like a party on the other side, and A. Eunice loved parties. And B. Maybe the rabbit loved parties, too. And maybe he'd been late for _this_ party.

_And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall_

_Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar has given you the call_

_And call Alice, when she was just small_

There was such a lovely little cottage here! Its windows glowed a soft pink light and a plume of happy smoke curled from the stone chimney. White roses grew simply everywhere, and their fragrance filled the air. Eunice followed a stone walkway around the cottage to the sound of the music, which was shifting to a jauntier beat.

_The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is_

_The lock upon my garden gate's a snail, that's what it is_

_First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is_

_First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is_

In the well-groomed back yard, a long table was set up for at least twenty guests. Colorful cakes with fluffy icing beckoned. Steam rose from brightly painted teapots. Mismatched china laid ready on a paisley tablecloth. But...there were only three guests that she could see. Two men - dancing and singing madly to their odd music. And one woman, prone on the table amidst party foods.

_The caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within_

_Caterpillar sheds his skin to find a butterfly within_

_First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is_

_First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain_

Eunice's jaw dropped. "Frank?!" The security guard turned, still jerking to the drumbeat. His guard cap was garishly oversized, a tag reading 10/6 bobbing in its brim.

"Oh, hey! Hey!" Frank gestured madly for her to join the table, scrambling to dump a cake out of a chair for her. "Sit down! Sit down!"

"Um…" She glanced across the table. "Carl?"

"Cuppa tea!" The orderly shouted, gleeful. "Ya can't have a seat without a cuppa tea!" He sloshed tea haphazardly into a cup. Thenn into another cup. "Why not?" He asked. Shrugging, a produced a flask and dumped amber liquid into the cups as well.

"Um…" She sat slowly in the chair. "What...what are you doing here?" She could barely process. Frank shoved a heavily iced cookie in her mouth. "Is that Shelly?" She murmured around the cookie. The woman on the table didn't stir.

"No, it's a cookie!" Frank slapped her on the back. She coughed cookie crumbs into the spiked tea.

"This is crazy," she murmured as Carl slid a plate of cake before her.

"Nah, this is cake!" He corrected. "And this is _tea_!" He chugged one cup, tossed it into the bushes behind him with a crash, and chugged another cup.

Eunice took a cautious sip of her own tea and nearly choked on the strong libation. "Wow." She shook her head. "Um. Frank? It's me. Eunice! Remember me?"

"Can't say I do." Frank abandoned his manic dance to flop into the chair beside her, chin on hand. "Probably because of the shellshock."

"Oh, don't get him started on the war!" Carl poured another tea for her, slapping it onto the saucer that still contained cake. It squished there.

"Hey!" Frank shoved his hand over Carl's mouth, pulling the orderly into a choke hold. "I've seen some things, man! And some stuff. Wouldn't recommend it."

"Have you seen a rabbit?" Eunice asked excitedly.

"Yep." Carl squirmed in Frank's death grip. "And a marmoset once. A sloth. Moles, voles, _and _shrews. One time? A panda. Two penguins mating. Buncha fish. Otters. I think a puma once. Or maybe it was an ocelot. A praying mantis - damndest thing. Some birds -"

"Birds?!" Suddenly Shelly bolted up from the table. "Birds where?!"

Carl slithered from Frank's grip. "Oh, shit! No birds, Shelly! It's alright." He soothed her. "Lay back down ya dopey looney." An aside to Eunice: "Traumatized by Hitchcock this one was."

"Point is," Frank continued as though nothing else was happening. "I seen a lotta different critters and varmints in my day."

Eunice scowled, frustrated. "But I mean today. A rabbit. Maybe running by here? Wearing a vest?"

"Shit!" Carl snapped his fingers. "The dry cleaning."

"It'll wait til Monday." Frank shrugged, dipped a cookie in Eunice's tea and nibbled it. "What was yer question again?"

"I'm looking for a rabbit!" Eunice stood, stamped her foot. She'd had enough shenanigans. "This is crazy! I don't care about marmosets or otters or bugs or birds or -"

"Birds!" Shelly shot up on the table again. "They're coming for me!" Teapots, cakes, cookies and cups went flying as she scrambled about, seeking escape.

"Awww Hell!" Carl grabbed her legs to no avail. "Frank! Get the jam!"

"Get the jam!" Frank ran down the table, checking and tossing random jars. "See what you've done?"

"I didn't do anything!" Eunice insisted, backing away from the table as the two men wrestled Shelly into a chair, slathering her head with marmalade. "You're - you're all mad!"

"Baby doll." Frank looked over Shelly's calming head. "Mad people are the best people. Don't ya ever ferget that."

"Well, I can't be around mad people!" Eunice leaned against the edge of the house, finding her bearings again. "And I've got to find that rabbit!" She left the men and their music and their tea and their cakes and Shelly. After a brief struggle with the snail latch, she was again on the trail. Skittered away from the party house as quickly as possible.

Finally, she came upon a clearing and paused to re-evaluate. There were several more oversized mushrooms here and she sat heavily on one, fretting. "What am I going to do now?"

"What indeed?" A strange masculine voice asked.

It didn't surprise her this time when she looked up at a giant caterpillar. Well. Kind of a caterpillar. It _was _ a caterpillar. Long and skinny and blue. Wearing a lab coat and a man's gaunt but kindly face. "Oh! Hello." She stood and curtsied, trying to be polite.

"Greetings." The caterpillar sucked smoothly from a hookah pipe. "Who might you be?" He asked.

"I'm Eunice." She added: "Sister Mary Eunice."

"Whose sister?"

"_I'm_ the sister. Sister Mary Eunice."

"Ah. I see." The caterpillar slithered into a coil. "But who _might _ you be?"

"I don't understand."

"Obviously." He glared down on her. "You might be anyone you wish. Do you suppose?"

She shook her head. "I'm only who I am. And I'm Sister Mary Eunice Mckee."

"More than you were a moment ago." He puffed.

"I...I haven't changed."

"Haven't you?" He made an airy gesture with one of many weird caterpillar hands. "Eunice. Then someone's sister. And now Sister Mary Eunice Mckee. Seems much more to me."

"I don't _really_ have a sister," she clarified. "I'm on my own here."

"On your own where?"

"Here!" Her voice rose n her frustration. "In this crazy place! Looking for a rabbit!"

"What rabbit?"

"A white rabbit." She sank onto a mushroom again, defeated. "Wearing a vest."

"Nonsense."

She gaped. "Oh, a rabbit in a vest is nonsense, but a hookah-smoking caterpillar with a man face is supposed to be a tepid bowl of normal?"

"Don't get testy." The caterpillar puffed. "I was merely implying this rabbit is perhaps a symbol for something more you seek."

Eunice shook her head. "There's no more than that. And no more than me."

"Oh, I assure you dear girl. There is _much_ more than you."

"You're confusing."

"Not at all." Elegantly, he cleared his throat. "For your consideration: 'A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts' by Wallace Stevens." The caterpillar recited certainly, enunciation perfect.

"The difficulty to think at the end of day,

When the shapeless shadow covers the sun

And nothing is left except light on your fur—

There was the cat slopping its milk all day,

Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, white milk

And August the most peaceful month.

To be, in the grass, in the peacefullest time,

Without that monument of cat,

The cat forgotten in the moon;

And to feel that the light is a rabbit-light,

In which everything is meant for you

And nothing need be explained;

Then there is nothing to think of. It comes of itself;

And east rushes west and west rushes down,

No matter. The grass is full

And full of yourself. The trees around are for you,

The whole of the wideness of night is for you,

A self that touches all edges,

You become a self that fills the four corners of night.

The red cat hides away in the fur-light

And there you are humped high, humped up,

You are humped higher and higher, black as stone—

You sit with your head like a carving in space

And the little green cat is a bug in the grass.'"

Eunice blinked. "That was um...that was very well presented."

"Shall we discuss the meaning in its metaphor?"

"Er...no."

"Your turn." The caterpillar flicked the hookah pipe.

"Oh, I really don't know any -"

"Your turn!" He demanded.

"Fine!" She cleared her throat, too. "I have a little rabbit whose ears are soft as silk. His eyes are round as saucers, and his coat as white as milk. My rabbit cannot talk to me, but only twitch his nose.I can tell when he is happy, as twitchy twitch he goes."

The caterpillar closed his eyes, listening to her poem. They remained closed for some time after. He breathed, thinking. "A beautiful philosophy."

"It's just a poem about a rabbit."

"Nothing is just anything."

"Yes it is!" Eunice insisted.

"And you had a piss poor delivery!"

"I didn't realize I was going to be back in grade school today!"

"Life." The caterpillar bent to level with her. "Is grade school."

"I have to go."

"Where?"

She looked back at the trifling insect person from the edge of the clearing. "I don't know. I'm going to keep searching for that rabbit. I've seen him. I know he's real. I have to prove it to everyone else now." She paused, remembering something, and curtsied again. "Thank you for the delightful conversation. And the poem."

"I wish you luck in finding your...rabbit." The caterpillar settled as though he intended to nap now. He watched the trifling girl depart through slit eyes. "Beautiful philosophy…" He murmured.

It was beginning to feel quite hopeless. She was exhausted. Lost. And the rabbit was beginning to feel less and less important in the grand scheme of extracting herself from this very odd and somewhat threatening world. Now, when she looked around, it was not for anything Leporidae in nature, but for any recognizable or sensible landmark. She sought escape.

But after wandering this trail for what felt like hours, she needed a rest. And a good cry. She sank against a nearby tree trunk to have both.

"Now what are you sobbing for?"

Eunice looked up, not startled in the least. "Go away, Pepper!" She wiped her snotty nose on her dirty habit sleeve.

"Rude!" Pepper swung before her face, monkey-style. "I was going to help you."

"I don't think anyone can help me here."

"Not with that attitude."

"I just want to go home!" Eunice wailed. "Back to Briarcliff and my room and my bed! Back to all the patients and the Monsignor and -" Suddenly she gasped, eyes wide with fear. "Sister Jude is gonna be soooo mad at me."

"Huh." Pepper switched up hanging arms. "Well, if you want to get anywhere here really, you have to get past Her Majesty."

"Her Majesty?"

"The Red Queen."

Eunice blinked. "That sounds...awful."

"She makes Sister Jude look like Saturday morning cartoons."

"No!" Eunice rubbed at her face, frustrated. "I'm so tired of weird people and bugs trying to tell me what to do! I don't want to take orders from some Queen. She's not even my queen!"

Pepper shrugged. "Doesn't matter. It's Her Way or no way."

"Her Way…" Eunice remembered the signs from earlier. "You said she can get me out of here?"

"She'll know what to do. For sure."

"Then...I just follow the path that went Her Way."

"Yep."

Her face screwed up. "Well. My Way doesn't seem to be doing me any favors."

"Nope."

"Thanks, Pepper." There was sarcasm in her voice.

"Being honest."

Eunice pushed away from the tree trunk with a heavy sigh. "Fine. Her Way it is." She crossed over My Way in the direction she remembered seeing Her Way.

"Wrong way!" Pepper chuckled.

"Dammit!" Eunice turned, recrossing My Way. She tossed Pepper a rude gesture as she passed.

Pepper didn't mind. She watched Eunice disappear through a copse of trees with a smile. Then, suddenly remembered something. "Aw, crap. I shoulda told her to take Less This Way. It's so much faster." She flipped herself back up onto a limb. "Oh, well."

It was another small forever before Eunice stumbled through thick brambles onto the smooth, red brick path that was Her Way. She dusted herself off in the center of the walk, surprised by the pristine and perfectly groomed landscaping. On both sides of the trail was a dense hedgerow of gorgeous white roses. She leaned in to sniff one, smiling despite her current straits.

She'd been following the trail only briefly when she stumbled upon (surprise) some strange activity. It seemed to be two people, clad in light blue patients' robes, painting frantically. Eunice's eyes squinted as she neared them. "Dolly? Peter?" They barely glanced at her, whimpering. Their frightened faces flicked from brimming paint pots up to hedgerow over and over again. Red paint flew everywhere as they doused each rose blossom. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Her Majesty wanted red roses!" Dolly's head shook as she wept.

"But we planted white by mistake." Peter took up the explanation, his sweet brown curls spackled with paint. "So we have to paint them before she sees or…"

"Or what?" Eunice was concerned as to the welfare of her patients - her friends.

"Shhh!" Dolly slapped a hand over Peter's mouth before he could reply, successfully painting his lips as well. "Too terrible. Too terrible!" She said. "Paint!"

In a paint tray on the ground, Eunice noticed another brush. "Here." She took it up. "I'll help you for a while. But then I've got to get out of this crazy place."

However painting roses was almost fun. It was a soothing activity; fulfilling to see the bright red liquid curl and caress every stark white petal, to watch that purity dissipate in a quick coating of blood. And her presence seemed to soothe Dolly and Peter, too. Soon, they were even laughing and singing through their task.

_Imagine me and you, I do_

_I think about you day and night, it's only right_

_To think about the girl you love and hold her tight_

_So happy together_

They danced down the hedgerow, painting as they went, occasionally swinging one another beneath red-streaked arms. They were messes, really - paint everywhere and clothes disheveled. But they were smiling messes without a care in the world.

_If I should call you up, invest a dime_

_And you say you belong to me and ease my mind_

_Imagine how the world could be, so very fine_

_So happy together_

In fact, they were so invested in their painting, singing and dancing that they failed to notice a strikingly royal entourage approaching. Odd, because the head of the entourage could hardly be ignored under any circumstances…

_I can't see me lovin' nobody but you_

_For all my life_

_When you're with me, baby the skies'll be blue_

_For all my life_

"What...in the actual living _fuck_...is going on here?" A deep, raspy feminine voice - sensual if terrifying.

Eunice gasped, whirling to a halt in front of the woman. "Sister Jude!" She exclaimed. Or...was it Sister Jude? Eunice stared between the tall, domineering maven and her dripping paint brush. Quickly stashed the brush behind er back. Nearby, Dolly and Peter had fallen to quivering knees, two blithering weeping walruses. "Uh…" Eunice stammered.

Jude (or was it Jude?) approached her slowly, calculations clicking in black, smoky eyes. "And _who _in the actual living _fuck_ might you be?"

"It's me, Sister." She whispered, eyes downcast. "Sister Mary Eunice."

"I don't have a sister." A murmur ran through the motley crowd of courtesans behind the Queen. And she was most definitely a queen - of some kind. Red leather bustier creaked as she circled the young nun. Boots hugged the longest legs Eunice had ever seen, revealing only a tiny sliver of creamy thigh. The slim skirt with its wide, golden belt was slit up both sides to the waist. Eunice swallowed thickly.

"Pssst!"

Her eyes followed the hiss. "Monsignor?"

But barely the Monsignor. This man was hardly dressed. Black slacks and no shirt. His priestly collar was transformed into a collar and attached to that collar was a leash. And holding the leash was the Queen.

"Kneel before your Queen!" He reminded, quivering himself.

"Oh!" And it seemed the only thing to do - kneeling. So she did.

"Better." Jude surveyed the trio on the ground before her. Her golden hair was cinched in a tight, painful looking bun inside a thorny, golden crown. "Two wasted fucking lunatics." She gestured to Dolly and Peter. "And my long lost sister. A stranger." Her fingers were cool and hard beneath Eunice's chin, pushing it up. "What a pretty, dirty little thing you are." The fingers stroked her jaw almost sweetly, were they not so...perverse. "There's such innocence inside you." She licked a pair of sanguine, promising lips. "I would love to taste it."

"If your Majesty wishes -"

"If I wish the king to speak," she overrode Timothy smoothly. "It shall be to hear him beg." A sharp tug on his collar brought him to his knees, too. "Is that crystal fucking clear?" He made no reply. Jude continued to stare at Eunice, considering. "Take the crazies to await my punishment." She commanded. A bustle of activity and Eunice looked up to see Frank and Carl approaching.

"Frank! Carl! You're here!" She was happy to see their familiar faces.

But they took hold of Dolly and Peter so roughly, pulling them by the hair. Eunice's face fell. Frank winked at her as they struggled by, wrestling Dolly into a straightjacket. "Hey there, baby doll. Welcome to the kingdom." Carl shoved a needle into Dolly's neck and she went limp as a wet rag. "There we go!" Frank pulled her along much more easily now. "See ya latah!" They hauled off the unconscious patients as if this was routine.

"Now." Leather squeaked as Jude knelt, too, taking in Eunice's features. She smiled. A twisted smirk. "What shall I do with you?"

"Please." Eunice felt tears. "Your Majesty. I'm just trying to get home. Please can you help me?" She bowed as deeply as she could, knees hurting against brick.

"Mmmmm." The queen rose now. "This one knows how to ask nicely. The rest of you fickle fucks should take some goddamn notes." A deep laugh. "Sister. Mary. Eunice." She felt fingers twisting her ponytail gently, tugging but nnot pulling. "Stand up, girl." She stood as bade. "Let's get you cleaned up, hm? A nice, pretty new frock. And you can join me at the games today. At my side." When Father Howard whimpered behind Jude's legs, she shoved a boot heel into his side. "Hush!" Eyes back on Eunice. "Does that sound nice?"

Best not to argue. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"God, that politeness is delicious." Jude stepped so close she nearly brushed Eunice's body with her own. "I think I'll break you...sweetly."

"What, your Majesty?" Eunice's lip quivered. Fear sent a freezing wave up her spine.

"Sweets, I said." Her black eyes twinkled like dark stars. "After court games and dinner. Do you like dessert?" Her heels clicked when she turned away.

Eunice's stomach growled despite itself. "But...sweets lead to sin, Sister." She reminded quietly, wondering if she was saying the right thing.

Jude turned, clicking her tongue. A full fledged grin. "Don't they, though." She snapped her fingers. It sounded like a gunshot. "Slut!" Shelly wriggled through the crowd and knelt before Jude, as well. "Take...my little sister to a nice room and get her looking presentable. Then bring her to croquet."

"Yes, your Majesty." She nudged Eunice. "Come on. I'll help you."

"Thank you, Shelly." She let the looney take her hand, leading her. When she looked back, the royal procession was moving on, Father Howard crawling obediently behind his mistress. And the mistress turned - as though she could sense eyes on her red-cloaked back - and gave Eunice a promising glare.

But promising _what_, Eunice couldn't begin to imagine.


	7. Through a Dark Looking Glass

Her Majesty's castle was Briarcliff - but not like any Briarcliff Eunice could have imagined. Walls painted blood red. Floors tiled dizzyingly in black and white. Caged windows Gothic peaked. And Sister Jude's beloved Stairway to Heaven? A menacing black lacquered fortification of iron and spike. She tapped a spindle with the palm of her hand and found it sharp. Winced.

"Come on, already." Shelly groused tiredly. "If I don't get you cleaned up and delivered to the games, it's my fucking hide." She yanked Eunice's arm none too gently.

"What exactly are these games?"

"Stupid croquet." At the end of the staff quarters corridor, she paused before a gilt door. "Can you play croquet?"

"I never have." Eunice chewed her lip.

Shelly rolled her eyes, opening the door. "It's cool. She likes _you_. She won't care that you can't play."

The room Eunice found herself in should have been her own room at Briarcliff. But here, it was an homage to luxury - to hedonism. To sin. An enormous dark wood bed clad in lush sanguine satin and velvet. Pillows piled high. A wardrobe with massive mirrored doors. A bathtub the size of three bathtubs exposed beneath a window draped in black taffeta. Furs on the floors and a fire crackling in a white-tiled floo. "It sounds like she doesn't like very many people," Eunice murmured, taking in her surroundings wide-eyed.

Shelly turned at the wardrobe. Her gaze was haunted. "She liked me once."

"Once?" Eunice watched her open the wardrobe, flicking through garments inside.

She produced a white dress. Extended it to Eunice. "She found me amusing for a while, I guess." A shrug. "Until the newness wore off. Get dressed. I'll find a hairbrush."

Eunice stepped behind the wardrobe door to change while Shelly rifled through drawers on a nearby vanity. "Well, I won't be around long enough for my newness to wear off." She was surprised at how well the dress fit, if it was a little short. Sheer sleeves belled. The loose a-line style's hem brushed her knees. She couldn't help thinking it was very pretty, and closed the door to examine her reflection with a small smile.

The smile fell when the mirror revealed Shelly standing behind her holding a wide hairbrush. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

Laughing ruefully, Shelly began roughly brushing Eunice's mussed locks. "There is no stay or go as you please here. Her word is law."

"But...she's going to help me get home."

"Idiot." Brisk fingers secured Eunice's hair in a white satin ribbon. "She's going to keep you here. Like a little pet." At the young nun's stricken expression, Shelly smiled sickly. "And trust me: she'll pet you. Until you purr like a kitten to lick her cream." She leaned into Eunice's ear. "Then her claws will come out. And she'll make you scream."

"Jude would never hurt me." Her voice trembled just the same.

Shelly patted her shoulders, done with her preparations. They stared into the mirror together - at the prettiest Eunice Eunice had ever seen. "There's a fine line between pleasure and pain, girly girl. She'll push you riiiiight up to that line until you're barely balancing on it. Then, she'll bend you over it and break you like a fine glass flower." She pinched Eunice's ass lightly. "Now come on before she sends for us."

Eunice followed Shelly through the maze of this dark Briarcliff in a haze of worry. Surely Shelly was just teasing her. Being mean. Maybe she _was_ out of favor with Jude, and jealous. Maybe she was just being Shelly - a little crazy and a little dirty. But what if she was right? What if this Jude was genuinely nothing at all like her Sister Jude? What if this Jude -

"Oh my God!" Her train of thought cut short when double doors opened onto the grounds. "This is gorgeous!" And it _was _gorgeous. Like anyone's dream garden. Lush green grass surrounded by high blossoming hedges of red roses. Ornately carved stone tables and benches. Spiraling marble pathways. A bubbling koi pond complete with lilies. In the waning light of dusk, butterflies flitted about and white-winged doves cooed serenely from Japanese sakura trees.

"Yeah." Shelly nudged her. "You don't wanna know how many people died to make it happen. Over there." She nodded. "Go. I'm not invited." And swiftly, she departed, back to the double doors, leaving Eunice to follow the sounds of clacking and muffled voices.

Around a hedgerow, she found the croquet game already in progress. Not wanting to interrupt, she lingered at the edge of the playing ground, scanning faces. Jude was there, seeming to tower over the proceedings in those deadly heels. Timothy stooped beside her. In the crowd, she recognized Frank and Carl dressed quite formally, and a few of Briarcliff's more senior patients. In colorful paisleys and patchwork, they looked like a cross between clowns and courtesans.

"It's your turn, Timothy." Jude was extending a mallet to the cowed and still half naked priest.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He took the mallet, preparing to make his shot. "Um...the balls -"

"_Your_ fucking balls belong to me, Timothy." She grinned. The entourage laughed. "You simply have permission to play with these today."

"Yes, Your Majesty." He lined up a shot. Took it. Eunice heard the tap echo through the firmament. The ball barely missed the wicket, and rolled to a stop in a tuft of grass.

"Pity." Jude stroked his shoulder - not a loving caress. "Never quite able to make the mark are you?"

"No, Your Majesty." He bowed his head in shame.

Jude's lip curled. She unclipped his lead. "Go get in your box."

Eunice watched him slink by her, barely upright. "Father…" She murmured. But if he heard her, he made no response. He probably dared not utter a sound.

"Well, look at how nicely you cleaned up, poppet." Jude sauntered toward her, casting off her thick red cloak despite the burgeoning chill of evening. A nearby court jester caught it. Cool, kind fingers tilted Eunice's chin up to meet the maven's dark appreciative eyes. "Very becoming in white."

She couldn't have stopped the blush if she'd wanted to. Something about this woman's fancy made Eunice feel pretty for the first time. "Your Majesty is too kind. I'm not very becoming, at all."

"Oh, my pet." Jude swiped her thumb across Eunice's pink cheek. "Trust me. You'll be coming soon enough." At Eunice's blink, she produced a mallet. "Do you play?"

"Sadly, I do not, Your Majesty. But, I'll try if it pleases you."

Jude licked her lips and the court tittered. "I like that attitude, Mary Eunice." She wrapped Eunice's fingers around the mallet beneath her own. "And yes. It will please me greatly to have you...play." Anther gunshot snap. "A ball! For our fucking guest!"

Another motley patient jester darted onto the playing field, dropping a striped ball before scampering away. "Here." Jude maneuvered Eunice behind the ball. "I'll teach you." Her arms wrapped Eunice from behind. Strong hands wrapping softer ones. Jude's skin was cool. Eunice could feel it through the sleeves of her tea frock. "Hold it steady. With your foot." A red leather boot demonstrated and Eunice followed suit. "Now. Line up your shot. You want to get it through the wicket - that wire hoop there." Jude's chin gestured to the wicket, brushing Eunice's temple. "And as close to that cluster of balls there as possible. Hit them if you can." Her lips brushed the shell of Eunice's ear, raising gooseflesh. "Understand?" Eunice swallowed. There was a lump in her throat, so she nodded. "Good." Abruptly, Jude stepped away. "Go on, then."

She could barely concentrate. Something in her abdomen was creating a distracting hum and her panties were uncomfortably sticking to her thighs now. So on a wing and a prayer, she swung and tapped. The ball traveled swiftly and smoothly through the wicket, coming within half an inch of the clustered balls but not quite hitting them.

"Excellent!" Jude enthused. The court clapped. "For a beginner." She gave Eunice a wink. "Frank! It's your turn, you mad bastard."

"Woo-hoo!" Frank danced onto the field, pirouetting with the offered mallet.

Jude rolled her eyes, drew Eunice close to her to murmur in her ear. "Hasn't been the same since the war, that one."

"Oh." Eunice wasn't quite certain how to respond. "That's so sad."

Jude chuckled low in her throat as Frank missed his first shot. "Sad? Mad. Some of them outright bad." She shrugged. "Welcome to my kingdom, pretty thing." Her fingers encircled Eunice's hip, gripping. "Come with me. Let's have a nosh, shall we? Just the two of us."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

They left the croquet game behind, jesters jumping to open the double doors for their queen. "Dinner." Jude snapped at one. "My chambers. Quickly. And no fucking disturbances."

Jude's heels clicked staccato on the tiles as they walked. She was so confident, so certain and intimidating. Eunice filled the silence of Jude's determination. "I never imagined seeing Briarcliff this way, Your Majesty."

"Briarcliff?" Jude pushed through a door into the common room - now more of a ballroom, hung with a giant, snakelike chandelier in gold.

"Oh! That's where I'm from. Where I'm trying to get back to." Just a subtle reminder. "It's a lot like this place."

"No place is like this place." Jude murmured. "Why would you want to leave it?"

They began their ascent on the frightening staircase. "It's not that I would want to leave this place," Eunice assured. "It's - it's a beautiful kingdom, Your Majesty. It's just that I - I have responsibilities back at Briarcliff."

"Responsibilities?" Jude laughed aloud. "Here, you would have _no_ responsibilities. Lounging all day at your leisure. Whatever you desire to eat, to drink, to…" She trailed off outside of what should be Sister Jude's office. "Just whatever you desire." An even, steely gaze at Eunice. "Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It - it does, Your Majesty." Eunice stammered. "It's just - oh." She was completely distracted, completely stymied when the mahogany doors opened. "Wow."

The Queen's personal chambers were similar to the room Shelly had taken her to earlier - amplified by a hundred. The same furs, bathtub, wardrobe, vanity. The same basic furnishings in that shimmering black lacquer. But the bed - a round affair - took up the entirety of the room's center.

Near the tub on the far wall was a strange sort of human shaped device outfitted with leather straps and buckles. A rough wooden keeler. And there in the corner was the only semblance of Eunice's Jude to be found thus far: a neatly organized rack of various whips, canes and rods.

Eunice suddenly felt a little light headed. "Sit." The queen gestured to a table near the door. "Our dinner should be delivered directly. Or at least...it better be." She muttered.

Nervous now, Eunice sat in one of the high backed velvet chairs. "Thank you, Your Majesty." Her throat was parched.

Jude was humming lightly to herself, leaning against her vanity. She removed her crown, set it gingerly upon a red satin pillow, and began unpinning her hair. Eunice watched the curls fall, tumbling onto leather-clad shoulders. She caught her eyes drifting back to that sliver of thigh skin visible between the corset's girdle and Jude's leathers. Thin black garters disappeared into the boots. Her throat grew even more parched. "You called yourself a sister." There was a glimmer in the queen's eyes. She'd clearly caught Eunice staring.

"At Briarcliff, I'm a nun, Your Majesty."

"A nun!?" Jude chuckled as she approached the table. "One of God's devoted lackeys? Christ's subservient little boot licker?" The words hurt. Eunice felt them slicing a hot slit in her throat. When Jude leaned over her - braced against the back of her chair - she could see the valley between full, creamy breasts. "And what does God give you in return for your...service, Mary Eunice? Hm? A promise of a place in Heaven?" Words wouldn't come. They crammed in Eunice's dry craw. "I can give you Heaven here, my precious little piece." Eunice gasped when Jude's booted leg slapped quickly between her own thighs. And just as suddenly, gentle fingers stroked her face, her temples. "I'll show you such delights." She slipped the satin ribbon swiftly from Eunice's hair, twirling long silky locks around her fingers. "Hm?"

But a knock at the door saved the quivering nun. There was a fury on Jude's face for just a fleeting second. She tempered it admirably. "Dinner," she chimed, standing.

'Dinner' was a feast. Fatty roast lamb, quail with eggs, crispy duck swimming in a moat of caviar, white wine mushrooms, buttery, flaky crab, fresh green beans with golden potatoes, and spinach in rich, thick cream. Jesters set plates and silver before them. Poured sweet wine into crystal goblets. Their work complete, the servants departed, leaving behind one more laden cart.

There was no prayer, it seemed. Jude was already ripping tender bird from bone, watching Eunice. "Are you not hungry, pet?"

Her mouth watered. "I'm very hungry."

"Then eat." It was a command. Not an offer.

Eunice lifted her goblet. _This is liquid sin. _She swirled the riesling slowly, sniffed it. "I've- I've never had wine, Your Majesty."

"I imagine there are many things you've never had, little sister." A wry grin. "That's a great part of your charm. But I'll tell you a thing. Often, the first taste of something we've never had is absolute divinity. And suddenly -" an airy gesture "- we can't get enough." Her voice hardened. "Drink."

She did. And it was incredible. A burst of flavor that seemed to change on every part of her tongue. Sweet, then bitter, then succulent. Her eyes closed of their own accord. "Mmmmm."

When her eyes opened again, the queen stared at her, nostrils flaring delicately. "You like?"

"It's amazing," Eunice confessed.

"An excellent vintage." Jude sipped her own wine. "Aged well for the...finest experience."

Small talk. Chat. It sounded safe to the girl. "I've read that wine is better with age." The quail was perfect.

"All things are better with age."

"Then what's the point of youth?" Eunice shrugged.

"Youth is for the enjoyment of the aged." Jude explained. "Like this lamb. Best in its prime. Tender and juicy. Its meat unspoiled. Untainted." Eunice arranged a few green beans strategically. Drank some more wine. Jude refilled her ate in silence for a time, processing. "Mary Eunice?"

"Yes?"

"Are you a virgin?" She studied the girl so keenly.

Eunice shivered. "Of course, I am."

"Of course you are!" Jude exclaimed as though it had been obvious even to herself. "Promised to God, after all. A good and virtuous girl."

"I'm not ashamed of my vows!" Eunice snapped. At Jude's sharply raised brow, she amended. "Your Majesty."

"So there _is_ a little fire in you." Jude tossed her napkin onto her emptied plate. "Excellent. I enjoy a challenge."

Eunice sighed, abandoning her own meal. She was beginning to really worry now. "Your Majesty?"

"A cumbersome address." Jude stood, meandered to the second dinner cart and began lifting silver serving domes. "Call me...Mistress, instead." A casual shrug. "Faster."

A bitten lip, then: "Mistress?"

"Yes, pet?"

"Will you really help me get home? Back to Briarcliff? I...I don't belong here."

"You don't? Or you don't _wish_ to belong here?"

"I don't think I fit in." Another plate slid before her and her nostrils filled with the smell of cooked sugar. "Thank you."

Jude sat across from her again. Her spoon tapped her own creme brulee. "What if _I _ wish you to belong here?"

"I respect you, Mistress, but -"

"What if I wish you to belong to me?"

Eunice swallowed, paling. "Mistress…" She whispered.

"Eat your dessert," Jude gestured with her spoon. "It's wonderful."

It was wonderful. Eunice couldn't deny the pleasure in the sweets. And there was coffee in an ornate silver pitcher, which was good because she felt rather tipsy from the wine. Jude was balancing her chair on its back legs, using her own long appendages against the table edge for leverage. Her boots creaked every time she moved and the subtle sound made Eunice squirm in her seat.

"Tomorrow." Jude announced suddenly, balancing her spoon on her nose.

"Tomorrow, Mistress?"

"Tomorrow. I suppose we can investigate the possibility of getting you back home."

"Oh, thank you, Mistress!" Eunice stood, relief and excitement flooding her form. "I'm so grateful!"

"How grateful?" The boots creaked.

Eunice shrugged, gestured openly. "I'm afraid I can only express my gratitude in words."

"Only words?"

"I have nothing to offer a queen."

"You have something I'd like very much, Eunice."

Eunice looked at her empty hands. "I would gladly give anything in my possession for this favor, Mistress."

"Would you, now? I'm certain arrangements can be made." Jude chuckled, rising. "The hour grows late. And it seems we shall have a busy day ahead of us. Will you accept the gracious hospitality of my castle's goodly accomodations for at least this evening?"

"I would be honored, Your Majesty."

"Then you honor me, little sister." Jude's cool hands stroked the girl's quivering shoulders. "There will be sleeping attire prepared for you in your chambers then. And...I think a nice hot bath? To erase the stresses of a trying day." A kiss - a sweet kiss - atop Eunice's head.

"That sounds wonderful, Mistress."

"Perfect. A good soak is in order for both of us. A spirited croquet match always leaves me a bit...sticky."

"Then...shall I bid you goodnight, Mistress?" Eunice's head bowed respectfully.

Jude opened her chamber door, gesturing for Eunice to pass through. Her dark gaze watched the girl leave. "It shall be a very good night, my pet."

The corridor was empty, but Eunice could hear muffled echoing voices from below. She skittered to her room - the room Shelly had taken her to earlier - and found it unlocked. Inside was just as Jude had promised. Her bed was turned down invitingly, revealing a plush feather mattress and pure white sheets. A fire burned in the floo, lifting the medieval chill.

A screen was erected before the bathtub, offering some semblance of privacy. It was nearly sheer, depicting participants in a croquet game. Behind it, steam rose from the massive bath. It was scented decadently, water swirling with iris and rose petals. Eunice felt positively giddy as she stripped off her dress and dipped her toes. "Oh, niiiiice," she sighed, lowering her body into the perfectly heated drink. "Mmmmm…"

The fire cast playful shadows on the screen, making the croquet players appear to move. Eunice played with all the tinctures and soaps on the shelf beside her. Sniffed everything. Poured a few drops of her favorites into the water. She dipped completely beneath the surface, feeling the grime on her body and in her hair dissolving. Jude was right. This bath was perfection. She lounged and bobbed and rolled in it until the water went nearly cool.

There was a dressing stool by the tub. A lush towel draped over the seat, and over the back must have been her sleeping attire. More white. Soft, sheer lace and an impossible array of silken ribbons. In fact there were so many ribbons, it took Eunice a few minutes to figure them all out. Two tied over each shoulder, securing a too short for modesty gown. There were matching knickers it seemed, and ribbons secured those as well. She tied neat bows in each. Her nipples peaked beneath the embroidered bralette. "Good thing there's a fire," she murmured, sitting on the bench to towel her hair. "I'd be awfully cold in this." A girlish giggle. She felt a little naughty in the nightie, too. Looked forward to crawling into that enormous bed.

She was brushing her hair, humming, when she rounded the screen. "Oh!" Her hand went to her heart, felt it hammering. "Your Majesty!"

Jude was changed, as well. Seated in an elegant wingback at the foot of Eunice's bed, she wore a black leather corset over a sleek red satin half slip - nearly as short as Eunice's gown. The black garters still disappeared into oily leather booths as tall as the red ones had been. "Good evening, pet." The firelight played power on her chiseled cheekbones.

"Mistress!" Eunice gasped, holding the hair brush like a shield. "What - what are you doing here?"

Jude spread pragmatic hands before steepling them beneath her chin. "I've come to discuss the terms of our...arrangement."

"Ah…" Eunice was stymied, eyes wide in the dim.

"All those lovely bows." Jude flicked a finger toward her fey guest. "Wrapped up like a present, aren't you?"

"I…" But what was there to say? Nothing. Fate weaved a spell.

"Come here." Feeling as though she was floating, Eunice obeyed the command, faltering to a halt a few feet away. "I said, come here." Jude's tone sharpened, threatening. "If I have to repeat myself again, I'll be forced to use this." Her fingers slipped down the chair's brocade, produced a shiny black crop. She slapped it against the chair's arm, producing a resounding crack. Eunice jumped. "And I would _hate_ to damage my present before I've even unwrapped it."

Tears filled Eunice's eyes and fears filled her chest. "Please, Mistress." But she still stepped forward, still came to rest within the long-armed queen's reach.

"Please what, pet?" The crop's leather fob was cold against the inside of Eunice's knee and she lurched, witholding a sob.

"I - I don't know," she whispered, voice cracking. A tear escaped. She was embarrassed of it, but not as embarrassed as she was of the sickening desire curling in her belly. Desire to _know _\- to know what this Jude had planned for her.

"I would like very much to please you, Eunice." The fob tickled up her inner thigh, teased against lace and Eunice whimpered. "If you'll let me."

"Mistress…"

"Do you know what you have that I want, little sister?"

"What?" The fob traced her untouched mound through delicate lace.

"Your innocence." Leather creaked and suddenly, Jude was sitting up, crop discarded beside her (thankfully). "I'd like to watch it spread - the blood of it - across these snow white sheets." She folded her fingers around Enice's waist, tugging her forward until she straddled a knee. "I'd like to feel it thick and hot, dripping down my fingers." Those fingers trailed down trembling hips to the nightie's hem, toying with the frill there. "I want to mix it with the wet that I bet is already is already glistening in your sweet pink slit." The fingers traveled on Eunice's sigh, stroked the inner crease of thigh and cunt. "Am I right?" One finger ventured beneath lace and Eunice nearly crumbled when it stroked - just ever so barely - her deepest secret.

"Ah!" She lost her balance, catching herself against the back of Jude's chair, one arm taut and the other still clutching her hair brush as though it offered some sort of protection.

"Yes, I thought so." Jude stood abruptly, rubbing her entire body against Eunice's as she did so. Leather met lace and easily, she scooped the girl around the waist, turning her. "On the bed," she snapped.

"Please!" Eunice finally found a full voice.

Jude's hands were swift; one slapped across Eunice's mouth and the other snatched the hairbrush. Before a thought, she pushed Eunice over the chair's arm. "Rules." She stated firmly. "One. You speak not a word unless bidden. I want only to hear your whimpers, your hisses, your cries of pleasure and at that tiny pain that I promise will be so fleeting, so fickle, so lost in the rapture I'm going to wreak in your delicious little quivering quim. Two. You obey me without question and without hesitation. Any of that bullshit, missy, and you'll get this." The hair brush smacked sharply on her plump buttock. Eunice screamed behind the hand on her mouth. The unexpected sting radiated something strange and sublime. "Understood?" She nodded desperately, seeking purchase against the floor or the chair's arm. "Three. You lay beside me this night. After I've fucked you to _my _satisfaction - and after the guilt and the shame and the prayers and the weeping which I _fully_ expect and _eagerly_ anticipate - I shall teach you how to pleasure me in return before I let you sleep. Do we have an accord, Mary Eunice?"

Another desperate nod. She could hardly breathe for the tears and the snot and the hand still stifling her lips. "Excellent." The hand released her mouth and Eunice tried to control the wracking sob, but failed. "Now." Jude pulled her upright, gentle again. "I believe I was unwrapping my present?" At Eunice's terrified and submissive nod, the queen chuckled. "Much better." Fingers stroked her chin, a fleeting touch, down to her shoulder where she plucked at a white satin ribbon. Eunice could hear the material slipping, so close to her ear - could feel the tickle of its release. The bralette cup flopped, revealing a small, round breast cream colored and pink peaked. Her immediate response was to cover herself, but her arm hesitated, halted. "So pretty," Jude whispered, cupping the flesh firmly. "And if I'm not mistaken, curious?" A finger circled the hardened nipple. "Because it's quite warm in here, really."

The other ribbon slipped just as easily and the shift fluttered down her legs. Eunice whimpered. "Shhhhh," Jude soothed. "Lay down, dovey." She gestured to the bed. "I'd like a nice leisurely inspection of my new toy."

Numb, lip bitten to rawness, the little nun scrambled up onto the high bed. She lay back stiffly, tense with fear and never to be admitted arousal. Jude followed, far less stiffly. She propped on an elbow to stare at Eunice's body. "You're easily the loveliest pet I've ever had." Long fingers traced formless designs on her sensitive skin. Squeezed breasts. Dipped into belly button. Made the girl squirm.

Jude chuckled. Pointed. "Look there." Eunice's head turned. The wardrobe mirror revealed her nudity - her capitulation to her leather clad captor. She closed her eyes, modesty challenged. "No." Jude snapped, tapped her tummy. "Watch." With a whine, Eunice looked back to the dark mirror to see sanguine lips descend on her breasts.

Jude's mouth was electric, shocking an arch from the novice. And her teeth were even more galvanizing, nipping tender nipple. Her caresses grew firmer, more demanding, slid like oil over slim waist and thighs. The final ribbons tied above her hips were dispatched pragmatically and Eunice was revealed. Instinct pressed her thighs together and Jude wriggled a hand between them. "No, no, no, pet. What did I say?" A tug. "Open up, darling. Or I'll get the crop. And I'd truly prefer to save the real crying until the end. Hm?"

Now shivering almost violently, Eunice complied again, pressed her own and over her mouth the stifle any sounds. But those fingers were parting her most secret folds, doing the most amazing things. "I'll gladly hear your pleasure," Jude whispered in her ear. "Just not your protests." A tight moan when fingers pinched her clit. Stars burst behind her squeezed shut eyelids. "Oh, I can't wait to watch you come for the first time, my little bird." Jude continued to manipulate the awakened flesh. "And even the second time." She shifted, climbing over Eunice and between her thighs. "The third."

She lifted a porcelain leg onto her shoulder, running her hand all the way down the appendage, back to tease the virgin's swollen folds. "Watch me lick you." Her voice hardened and Eunice obeyed, eyes back to the black-rimmed mirror. "And let me hear your sweet sighs." She couldn't have resisted if she'd wanted to. Jude's mouth was diabolical; her tongue teased gently, chasing the tiny hardened bud, then flattening to a hard stroke up hot slit. Eunice pitched and gasped, squealed and yelped at the sensations - at the decadent image of blonde curls between her now wide open legs.

She'd never even touched herself. Such things were sins. Yes, there had been sensations there before - punishable by confession, by beads counted endlessly and prayers whispered to meaninglessness. But _never_ could she have imagined this pleasure - this consuming rapture spreading from her abdomen to her toes, to the tip top of her skull.

And she wanted _more_. Shamefully shamelessly she thrust into Jude's mouth, bared down on the fingers tickling that tingling flesh - dipping and spreading the flagrant fluid. There was a heat building, something frightening and looming, threatening to burn her brain and destroy all good sense. It crept up into her throat, making her gasp and suddenly - to beg: "Please! _Please_, mistress forgive me! Your majesty it feels - ah!"

"How does it feel my pet?" Two fingers slipped just a little deeper.

"So good! So good!" The mouth went back to work and the heat crept higher and the stars swirled brighter and something clenched up. Something _broke _\- a sharp, screeching, brilliant wave of light and joy washed through her. If Eunice hadn't known better, she might have called it the holy ghost. But the pain that lingered after the wanton waves convinced her otherwise.

She heaved in the sheets, hammering heart slowing. There were tears sliding down her temples and when she finally managed to open her eyes, the mirror showed her downfall.

Jude's hand smeared sticky redness up Eunice's thigh, cupped and stained her knee. "Perfect, pet." The queen smiled, spreading the girl's legs to view her work. "Now. Did that hurt?" At Eunice's shaky nod, Jude tisked. "But you begged for it. For me to fuck you. You were exquisite. Look." She held her fingers up for Eunice's perusal. "There's nothing pure about innocence, is there? Honestly it's disgusting."

When Jude pulled at her forearms, Eunice rose. Blood marred her wrist. She looked at it, then down between her legs where she ached. The sheet was stained there - Titian patch spreading. She'd sinned.

And she'd enjoyed it.

Jude slipped from the bed and Eunice curled her knees to her chin, buried her face in shame. She heard a lighter flick in time with a wet sniffle. "Are you crying because you've lost the almighty's favor?" Jude's voice wanted to know. "Or because you lost the almighty's favor and _liked_ it?" Eunice sobbed harder in reply - the truth evident in other fluids drying to her thighs. The older woman chuckled deeply. "I thought so." The smoke of her cigarette swirled. "You should have a sleep, pet. Poor thing. The soreness passes, and so does the shame."

Fingers stroked Eunice's hair. Lightly pulled to reveal her red face. "Lie down." She rolled to her side. The queen folded a velvet duvet over her naked body. Flicked the cigarette to a far corner dismissively. Leather creaked as she climbed beneath the duvet beside Eunice. "Sleep. Rest before I wake you and awaken more delights in you." She gathered the girl to her, taking on the big spoon role. "Sleep and dream lovely things."

Despite herself, Eunice's eyes drooped. She saw them reflected in the wardrobe's all seeing looking glass. Blonde on blonde. Black leather on pale skin. They were really quite beautiful together, she thought tiredly. "Yes, mistress," she arms around her felt almost loving. Most definitely possessing. Darkness claimed her, and Jude's deep, even voice followed her into the dark mirror.

"You're going to be so happy here, pet. Mine. Forever."


	8. Introductions and Absolutions

The light hurt. Physically, it pained her eyeballs and her head. Penetrated Jude's brain as if it was made of spikes. She moaned helplessly, a heavy hand falling - as if of its own accord - over her face. The hand was heavy because there was a tube attached to it. She winced, murmuring, "Oh, God."

"Sister. You're awake." A masculine voice. Kind. Low and even. "Slowly now! Slowly." A firm hand aided her in sitting up. "And um…" Some adjustment of sheets. "Protect your modesty."

Sitting up, with a hand over her chest holding stark white sheet in place, she looked around. "Where am I?"

"You are in the Briarcliff infirmary."

She managed a squinting look up at that masculine voice. A tall, lean, gaunt man - white haired. "Who are you?"

"I am Dr. Arthur Arden." The man sat in the chair near her bed. "I hate that we should meet under these circumstances, Sister Jude."

"You know me…" She touched her pounding forehead.

"Here." The man handed her two large white pills and a glass of water. "Acetaminophen, Sister. For your headache."

Without question - with only gratitude that the pain - the pounding, incessant pain should end - she swallowed the pills. And the water was so good she could not stop drinking it. Gulping it. "Slowly!" The man said again. "Slowly, Sister. You're rehydrating on a saline drip at the moment."

And that would explain the pressure and sting in her arm. She looked down at the IV drip attached to her left wrist. "What's happened?" She asked. The pounding continued.

"There's been an incident." The gaunt man explained. "Are you aware enough to comprehend?"

And she took a moment to gauge his question. Yes, she was aware. Aware she was naked, wrapped in a sheet, with a needle in her arm. Aware of the sounds around her: muffled voices, light moans, the clinking of instruments. She was aware. "Yes."

"I was called here Saturday evening by a member of your security staff. A Frank McCann? He'd found you - and other patients and staff - passed out, or in various states of altered consciousnesses."

"Altered…"

"Sister." The doctor poured her another glass of water. Leaned forward in the little gestured for her arm. "A little sting here." She winced as he quickly, efficiently slipped her drip from her arm, wrapping a cotton ball over the clotting poke point. "I'm afraid there's been...an attack."

"An attack." She cradled her head in one hand. He took her now half glass of water.

"There was a substance introduced into the environment here. Probably by your former physician. One Dr. Phillips, I believe?"

"Yes." Vaguely, it registered.

"A gas in the ventilation system. I believe it to be methamphetamine. And another substance in the water supply that is most definitely D-lysergic acid."

She shook her fuzzy, hurting head. "Acid…?"

"An experimental hallucinogenic compound." The doctor folded his hands before him. "Sister...what's the last thing you remember?"

"I was...on a date? Reuben had..." She grappled with reality. "No. Wait. There was...a meeting. I was going to the garden...oh, God!" Her eyes frantic. "The Monsignor. Mary Eunice! Are they -"

Arden held up long-fingered hands, calming the panicked nun. "Settle down, Sister. They're both accounted for and fine. Shall I give you a timeline for this weekend's events? Offer you more clarity?"

"Please." She dropped her head into both hands now, listening to his soothing voice.

"Today is Monday. It is just after one pm. Late Saturday evening, around 10 pm, I received a call at my home. It was Mr. McCann. He had arrived at the institution around 8:30 pm, unable to reach anyone and suspecting something was wrong. We're very lucky he came. He found the institution in disarray. Some patients locked down and others wandering freely. Staff and patients alike in the grips of various psychoses or simply unconscious, as in your case. You were in your private quarters, on the floor near your bed. Finding you running a dangerously high fever, Mr. McCann put you into a cold hydrotherapy bath and phoned local police. He located my contact information in your desk and called me, as well. The police and security who arrived located all patients and staff expediently and secured the , the only two people outside of the building were the Monsignor and your Sister Eunice. He was beneath an apple tree just out back. She was located by a dog team in the woods, curled inside a large tree trunk, I understand. I arrived and called in another physician friend from the hospital. Some nurses. We began treating en masse, and airing the facility. Police located the nerve agents in the form of cakes in the ventilation. I began testing food and water sources. When we discovered the LSD, treatments became very clear. Everyone is responding well if not already recovered and re-situated." Seeing her glazed expression at the end of his diatribe, he smiled sympathetically. "Sister. Rest assured this entire situation was quite out of your hands. No one here is to be blamed. Briarcliff on the whole has been the unfortunate victim, I believe, of what is tantamount to vengeful police are on the hunt as we speak for Dr. Phillips."

"I lost control."

"You were in a highly altered state."

"I should have known something was wrong."

"I wouldn't expect a nun to have experience with mind altering substances."

"You said Frank called you?"

"Yes."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. I believe he's in the common room. We converted it to an extra infirmary space temporarily. He's securing patients."

"I'd like ta see him."

Arden rose, nodding. "I'll fetch him for you. Meanwhile." He slid a covered bowl toward her on the bed tray. "Try to drink this broth. You haven't eaten in days." He slid the cream curtain closed when he left her bedside.

Jude's fingers shook as she held the bowl. She managed a few sips of the salty broth. The headache was receding. For some reason, her eyes watered. She worried for Mary Eunice. "In a tree," she whispered to herself. She must have been so scared…

So it was all a dream, Jude reckoned. Or a...hallucination. "Reuben," she murmured. Complete nonsense. Giant squirrels...movie dates. But the thought left her strangely bereft.

"Knock knock." She looked up to see Frank's smile peeking through her curtain. "Ya decent, Sistah?"

She looked down at her sheet-wrapped body. "No."

Frank chuckled, sliding into her curtain. "I know. I brought ya this." He draped a habit across the foot of her bed. There appeared to be underwear, as well. "Fergive me fer riflin' through your dainties."

"Frank."

"Jude."

"I don't know how to thank ya. Far savin' us all."

Frank blushed handsomely. "How 'bout you give me a raincheck on that date?" Now Jude blushed, too. Looked away shyly. "That's how I found ya, ya know. How I found everybody. I was hopin' you'd call, and when ya didn't, I decided ta call _you_. But I couldn't get anybody on the horn. So I just rushed up something was bad wrong."

She nodded. Just seeing his face was reassurance. "I'm uh - gonna get dressed. Will ya take me on a tour? Let me see just what our damages are?"

"Take yer time." Hesitantly, he reached out. Stroked a golden curl behind an ear. Seemed to feel better after he'd done so. "I'll wait right out here."

Dressing was slow going. She was dizzy, probably from lack of food. Her head swam a bit. She had to steady herself twice against a bed rail. When she emerged from the curtain, fully bedecked in habit, she was met by Frank and Dr. Arden. "Sister Jude." Arden nodded to her respectfully. "I'm afraid I must professionally object to your leaving the infirmary at this time. I'm not certain you are in the state of health to resume any duties so quickly."

"Are you intending to restrain me, Doctor?" Jude leveled with the man.

"Of course not, Sister!"

"Well, it's thanks to yar unmatched level of emergency care that I'm able to leave this infirmary at this time. So if you object to my leaving, am I to assume you doubt yar abilities as a physician?"

Frank watched the doctor's mouth work with a grin. Knew exactly what the man was up against in this nun. "Not at all, Sister." Arden gestured toward the door. "Just...return here should you begin to feel poorly."

"Thank you, Dr. Arden." Jude extended a steady hand, and the physician shook it firmly. "And...it's a pleasure to make yar acquaintance."

"Likewise, Sister Jude."

On their way to the door, Jude sidetracked suddenly. "Mary Eunice!" She made her way to the bed beneath the window where an angelic blonde lay sleeping. "Oh, little bird…" Jude perched on the edge of the bed, delicately touching the younger sister's face and hair. Eunice was dressed in a long, white cotton gown, one sleeve pushed up for an IV drip not unlike Jude's. Jude took one pale hand in hers, raised it to her lips and prayed briefly, eyes closed. Frank waited patiently, smiling at the gesture. "I'll see you soon, Sistah." Jude replaced the hand peacefully on Eunice's chest and kissed a very gentle kiss atop the girl's silky head. A sharp glance at Frank. "She _nevah _hears tell I kissed her head or did any of that mushy stuff, right?"

Frank raised his hands in surrender. "Far be it from me ta tarnish yer hardass reputation, boss."

"Right." Rising, her breath caught. "Monsignor?"

Timothy Howard sat up two beds away from Mary Eunice. He was shirtless in cotton pajama pants, a yellow blanket folded over his shoulders. At the address he looked up, avoiding Jude's eye with little or no expression. "Sister Jude?"

She made her way slowly to his bed. "Are ya alright, Fathah?"

"I am." He closed his eyes. "Bit of a headache."

"Yar Dr. Arden took care of mine pretty quickly." Nodded to the physician tending patients across the room. "I'm certain he'll do the same far you." She bent a little, seeking out his face. He looked away as though it pained him. "Well. I assure ya yar in good hands, Monsignor. And...when yar feeling up to it, we'll have that outing in the garden."

"Oh, God," he dropped his face into his hands."Sister, forgive me."

Jude looked helplessly to Frank, who shrugged like he could give a shit. They left the Monsignor to his weirdness, Jude giving one last glance back at Mary Eunice. Just outside the infirmary she paused against a wall. Frank took her arm. "I'm okay," she said. And she was. "Just a little dizzy spell."

"Yeah? Well, another one of them little dizzy spells and I'm gonna scoop yer ass up and carry ya straight ta bed. Hear me?"

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Frank." Jude smiled, continuing down the corridor. "You coming?" He followed behind her, shaking his head and marveling at the woman.

That evening, Jude cooked for three men. The little table in Briarcliff's kitchen felt awfully cramped with Timothy Howard, Arthur Arden, and Frank McCann crowded around it. It also felt awfully awkward.

The Monsignor was still having some trouble meeting Jude's gaze. Frank's head was so swollen from all of his hero worshiping praise of the day that he was having trouble focusing on the fact that Jude couldn't stop staring at him. And Dr. Arden was wondering exactly what the hell he'd sign on for with this group of obviously repressed people.

"I must say," the physician cleared his throat over coffee. "That was genuinely one of the finest meals I've ever had the pleasure of sharing."

"Sistah Jude is the best damn cook this upside of the equator." Frank winked at her.

"Agreed." Father Howard seemed amenable to Frank's presence tonight. Or perhaps he was just inordinately pleased to not be alone with Jude. "She is possessing of many...talents." He swallowed visibly. "I hope that the two of you shall make a fine team someday."

"I respect an excellent work ethic," Arden stated matter of factly. "And I've certainly seen Sister Jude exhibit that trait today. She was so eager to ascertain the state of the facility that she left care _I know _far too early." Jude looked down guiltily. Arden pressed her just a bit further. "I also suspect she still harbors some feelings of responsibility and a sense of failure over what happened here."

Jude's expression hardened. She sipped her water, meeting Arden's narrowed eyes. "Yar a very perceptive man, Dr. Arden."

"And you're far too hard on yourself, Sister." He folded his napkin in his lap. "Even the state police were amazed that you continued as long as you did. Your high fever indicates you continued working for some time under the drugs' effects, compromising your immune system significantly."

"Stop blaming yourself, Sister." Timothy spoke up, finally managing a glance at Jude's face. "No one here was at fault."

"Of course, Fathah." She wouldn't argue with him.

"Mr. McCann." The Monsignor's voice offered a reckoning. "We owe you a great gratitude. Were it not for your timely response I understand many of us might have perished. You are...a credit to our institution." And if those words pained him, it only showed in the tensing of his neck.

"Yer too kind, Father." Frank could be civil, as well. Especially when he saw how happy it made Jude. "I like to think luck had a lot ta do with it."

"Indeed?" Timothy leaned forward. "I suppose it could. After all, _something_ brought you to Briarcliff at nearly ten in the evening on what should have been your weekend off." The priest regarded his empty wine glass. 'A most fortunate coincidence."

"Frank called." Jude spoke now, tone even if suggesting some malice. "No one answered. He came. Yes. A most fortunate coincidence." She lifted the silver pitcher. "More coffee?" And Frank tried to hide his grin as he accepted her offer.

After his far more formal welcome to Briarcliff, Dr. Arden took his leave of the diners. He had opted to stay at the asylum that evening - to be handy for any other straggling patients who might need him. Jude walked him to the kitchen doorway. "I thank ya again, Doctor. Far everything you've already done for us. And for all that lies ahead." Another handshake.

Arden half-smiled. "I very much look forward to working with you, Sister Jude. I suspect it will be...an exciting partnership."

Jude chuckled. "I may not understand yar science, but I certainly appreciate yar work."

"I can say the same for you. Oh!" He remembered something. "Sister Mary Eunice was released nearly two hours ago. I'm afraid your delicious dinner made me forget to tell you."

"Ah." Jude nodded. "I'll be sure ta check on her this evening before checks."

"A truly unique soul, that one." Arthur shook his head appreciatively. "Good night, Sister Jude."

"Seems like a nice man." Jude said, gathering plates at the table.

"Seems." Frank joined her, assisting.

"What do you mean by that, Mr. McCann?" The Monsignor gathered a few plates, as well.

"Just funny he was so quick ta figure out all that crazy drug shit. I mean, it's like he took one sniff of the air and got excited."

Jude regarded Frank thoughtfully, considering his words. Timothy discarded immediately. "I believe we're fortunate that he _did_ recognize the situation so expediently." He slid a chair in a bit too forcefully. "Just as we're fortunate you..._called_ when you did."

But Frank was in too good of a mood to take he Monsignor's bait tonight. "Yep. I reckon we are." He shrugged. "Buncha lucky mothafuckahs."

"Frank!" Jude swatted his shoulder with a wet whisk.

"Here." He took the tool from her hands. "Let me finish these dishes."

She didn't argue when he took over. "Sister."

"Yes, Fathah?"

"I appreciate your dedicated service to Briarcliff." He still wasn't looking at her. "Tomorrow morning we shall compile our report to the state board about the incident."

"Very well." She'd ceased seeking out his eyes. "And...I suppose we can take a look at Mary Eunice's garden? If she's feeling up to it."

"I've seen it." His cassock snapped as he turned toward the door. "Good night, Sister Jude. Mr. McCann."

They watched him disappear into the darkened corridor. "Something is really troubling him." Jude remarked, concerned.

"Or he doesn't wanna help wash dishes."

"Frank!"

He laughed. "What?!" She leaned against the table, facing him. "Ya feelin' bettah, Jude?"

"I'm fine." She toyed with a cloth napkin, wringing it. "Did you see me naked?" Frank's lips pursed. She knew that he knew that she wouldn't like his answer, and was considering a lie. "Don't lie ta me."

"I couldn't put ya in a hydrotub in a fuckin' habit, Jude! You woulda drowned!"

"Ya undressed me?!"

"Ya know?" He stepped close to her. "It wasn't exactly tha most romantic moment we evah shared considering I thought yer brain was boiling and yer eyes were rollin' back in yer head."

"So...you didn't peek?" She felt a little better.

"No!" He waved off her concern. "I made sure I took a good hard look just in case -"

"Frank!" She snapped at him, slapping at his arms.

"In case I nevah got anothah chance!" He laughed aloud, trying to get hold of her arms. "Ya got a cute little mole, Jude. Right above yer -"

"Argh!" She growled, pressed her hand over his mouth and he wrapped her in loose, one-armed embrace. They'd been in this same position just a few weeks earlier it seemed. And that had ended in a kiss. This time, Jude slowly brushed her fingers away from his mouth, felt his breath quicken as she touched his lips. "I'm sorry ya lost yar weekend off saving my life."

"I didn't mind."

"I'll schedule you off for this next one."

"You don't have ta do that."

"I'll schedule myself off, too."

"Oh." He smiled softly. "You uh - ya like movies?"

She blinked. Some little fleeting sadness slipped across her irises. Gone as soon as soon as it had appeared. "Oh, Frank. I _love _movies."

No kiss tonight. They parted ways at the base of the Stairway to Heaven, Frank to check on the lockdown, and Jude to check on one last patient.

The light under Mary Eunice's door was on. Jude knocked softly. "Little Sistah?" She heard Eunice's light steps, but it was some time before the door opened. The face that greeted her frightened her. "My God, Mary Eunice...are you alright?" Eunice only nodded, staring at the floor. Jude's brow creased. "May I come in?"

Eunice hesitated, plucking at her long blonde braid before stepping aside for her older sister. Jude sat at the end of Eunice's bed, watching the girl's bare feet shuffle beneath the hem of her white gown. "I'm worried for ya, Eunice. They told me you...you were in the forest. I wish I'd known." She shook her head sadly. "I wish I could have protected you."

"Sister."

"Yes?"

Finally, Eunice sat on her own bed, feet away from Jude. "You would never hurt me. Would you?"

"Of course not!" Jude was taken aback, mortified by the thought. "What would make you think such a thing?" Eunice curled, covering her face. "What happened to you, Mary Eunice?" Jude took hold of her shoulders, a gentle pull. "What did you see?"

"Sin!" Eunice wept. "_My_ sin, Sister Jude! My - my _secrets_!"

"Dammit, Eunice." Jude grabbed the girl, pulled her into a stiff embrace. "We're all sinnahs. But what you saw wasn't real. It wasn't from yar heart. It was from a drug. From something _man_ made. Not God, and not the devil. Ya hear me?" Eunice nodded, beginning to relax. Beginning to return Jude's embrace. "Do you wanna tell me? What you saw?"

"No!" Eunice cried into Jude's shoulder. "Not ever."

"Okay! Okay." Jude gentled, rubbing the smaller nun's back. "It's alright." She shushed the weeping, and after a few minutes of rocking back and forth, she began to hum tunelessly. She couldn't tell how long - long enough for her back to ache. Long enough for Eunice to quiet, to go limp in her arms. "There we go," Jude whispered, maneuvering Eunice onto the bed. "I'm sorry, Eunice. Sorry I failed you. I'll make it up to ya somehow."

Her sister slept. Jude pulled the quilt up and over the fey form. Her back popped when she stood. And suddenly the exhaustion hit her in full. A hand on the wall, she made her way to her chambers. No checks tonight. She simply couldn't do it. Frank would have everything under control, anyway.

Her room was chilly. The window was cracked still from the airing of the asylum earlier. Approaching it to close it, she paused at a familiar chitter. "Oh." From her pocket she extracted a few peanuts. Placed them on the sill and smiled. "Yar up awfully late aren't ya, friend?" The little gray squirrel slipped in swiftly, perching and scratching open a nut. Its fluffy tail flicked. "Did ya miss me? Or just the nuts?" It let her give a little scratch beneath an ear before skittering away with two peanuts.

Jude sighed and closed the window. For a moment, she stood there before the glass and grating. The asylum was quiet. She looked down. In the silver moonlight, her profile was soft, and lonely.


	9. The Dirty Work of Saving Souls

It was a beautiful day. Made even more beautiful by the fact that it marked the end of a six day stretch of rain, thunderstorms, dark skies, and minor flooding. Jude was distracted by it, honestly. She stared out her office window at several bright bluebirds chittering on a tree limb. A knock at her door broke the reverie. She sighed. "Come in."

"Sister." Timothy Howard's smile, however, was as charming as the chittering bluebirds.

Jude couldn't contain her own smile. "Fathah. What can I do far you?"

"Absolutely nothing, I'm afraid." He approached her window. Stood close beside her. He smelled of books and clean linen. "God has done more than enough for me today by gifting us this glorious dose of spring."

"True." She resumed her staring. Out the window. Not at the Monsignor. Well...maybe a little at the Monsignor.

"Just look at those birds." He chuckled. "Their happiness is contagious." Jude was nodding agreement, not realizing her smile had grown to teeth-showing. But the priest noticed. "You look radiant when you smile, Sister."

She blinked at the birds and blushed at the compliment. "Thank you, Fathah." She would have touched her hair had it not been beneath a wimple. "I'll confess I find the weather distracting."

"Wonderfully so." He rubbed his hands together. "And I have news to further please you."

"Oh?" She turned to him.

"Mother Claudia is coming to visit. She wishes to see the garden. The convent has greatly enjoyed the vegetables you and Sister Mary Eunice have so kindly shared. I believe your Mother Superior wishes to thank you and see the fruits of Briarcliff's honest labor."

And yes, Jude was most definitely pleased at this news. Mother Claudia was her trusted advisor. Her mentor. Her most admired and respected friend. "She couldn't have chosen a finer day far a visit."

"Agreed."

"Perhaps she'll join us for lunch. We could put some of those vegetables to use in a fresh green salad. I could probably scramble something up."

"Could you?" He didn't hide his delight at the promise of Jude's cooking.

"I could." She chuckled. "In fact, I believe Mary Eunice is in the garden now. Cleaning and tending it after all the rain. She took Pepper and Shelley with her." At his wince, Jude spread her hands. "I know what yar thinking, Fathah. But both Shelley and Peppah were on their best behaviors last week, a great achievement considering the storms. So I bowed to Eunice's whim to reward them with a gardening day."

"I apologize, Jude." Timothy grinned, shaking his head. "I simply know Shelley's propensity for… starting trouble."

"Trust me, Fathah. I do, too. And Peppah's certainly no bettah. But trust has to start somewhere. And their work benefits all parties, really."

"I _do _trust you, Sister." He put a hand on her shoulder. The fingers drifted briefly up, stroked her strong jaw. "You've not once disappointed me."

Jude swallowed. His praise tasted like a sweet red dinner wine. And his touch had been tantamount to orgasmic pleasure. "I try, Fathah," she whispered. He had no idea how hard she would try to please him.

Timothy's nostrils flared. Jude always smelled faintly floral. Something familiar. Something delicate. Something he might rut in if he was a lesser man. His mind flicked over images of Jude in velvet, an apple at her thigh, lust beneath a spreading apple tree. He hadn't quite recovered from the hallucination from a week earlier, and discovered that the mere thought of apples made him salivate.

He was staring at her lips when they moved suddenly. "I suppose I should go down and give Mary Eunice the news. She'll be excited to see the Mother Superior."

"Yes, of course." He took a deep breath when she turned to go.

"Will you accompany me, Fathah?"

"No." He needed a minute. Or five. "I believe I shall wait for our guest. I will bring her to the garden when she arrives." Jude nodded, leaving him in a vague lingering waft of gardenias.

"Pssst!" She turned on the Stairway to Heaven to see Frank McCann leaning on the rail above her. "We still on fer tomorrow?" He smirked down at her.

"Shhh!" She looked about to make sure no one was about to hear them and met him halfway on a landing. "I haven't made any othah plans. But we agreed this is a _secret_, Frank!"

They spoke in hushed tones. "I'm just sayin' yer makin' a movie date between two friends feel like something awfully dirty, Sistah."

"Oh, shut up!" She snapped. "I shouldn't be socializing with you at all, you know. It's unprofessional."

Frank smiled good naturedly. Leaned into her space. "More or less unprofessional than the time you kissed me in the kitchen?"

"Dammit, Frank!" She whirled away, cheeks pink and hot. "Get back ta work!" He was laughing when she hurried down the stairs. Jude trained her own expression to avoid beaming like a schoolgirl. He was right. It was just a movie date between two friends. Not like anything inappropriate was going to happen.

But inappropriate things _could _happen.

She bit her lip. Frank had been on her mind almost constantly since her hallucination a week earlier. The joy - and then the abject loss of that joy - had left a heavy pit in her stomach. She refused to imagine him _that_ way. Or any of those ways. Pulling her roughly against him. Tangling his fingers in her hair as he kissed her breathless. Sweaty and snapping hips between her thighs.

"Christ, I need ta get laid." She muttered to herself as she pushed through the kitchen door onto the stoop. It was a prayer - not a curse, she rationalized.

And now, in the cool breeze and the warm sun, the weather truly showed its benevolence. Jude paused for a deep breath. It smelled of rain and grass and clean dirt. Like a fresh, new start. Beautiful.

She meandered down the path toward Eunice's garden patch. More birds chittered and flitted about. At the far edge of the forest near the asylum, she saw a fawn frolic beside its mother. Their ears and tails twitched and Jude smiled softly. The smile grew when she neared the garden. She heard laughter.

Lots of laughter.

Pepper's unmistakable snorts and Eunice's rare musical giggles. Shelley's boisterous guffaws. They were obviously having a fine time. And today, that made Jude happy, too.

The smile fell as soon as the garden came into view. "What in the name of God is going on here?" She demanded.

The laughing trio froze, staring at her wide eyed and clearly caught out. "Sister Jude!" Mary Eunice steadied the wobbly wheelbarrow, terror spreading on her muddy beatures.

The wheelbarrow was wobbly because Pepper was in it. And she was covered in mud. Head to toe. A solid brown pinhead pretending to pilot a wheelbarrow like an airplane.

Not that Eunice was any better. Jude could see no white left on her protege's habit. Her face was streaked and splattered with mud and there was a bit of squashed tomato dried to her rear end.

Jude's eyes narrowed as they slid expectantly to the third miscreant. The one she suspected of lynch pinning this entire shit show. Shelley. "Does anyone care to answer my question?" She tried desperately to remain calm.

"Um...What was the question?" Shelley asked.

Jude tried even more desperately to remain calm. "I asked what exactly is going on here, Shelley."

"Mud!" Pepper shouted gleefully. Eunice shushed her.

"Yes, I see a great deal of mud." Jude rubbed at her eyes as if she could somehow make this vision disappear. It didn't work. "Eunice. You'll be pleased to know Mother Claudia is on her way here as we speak. To take a look at yar glorious garden."

"Mother - Mother Claudia?" Eunice whispered.

"Mm-hm."

The younger nun meeped. "Oh no." She looked down at herself. "I - I have to get cleaned up! We have to go!" She shoved the wheelbarrow, sending Pepper rolling onto the ground.

"Hold on there, missy." Jude stopped her progression with a tone. "I want a full explanation far these shenanigans immediately after Mother Superior's visit. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Sister Jude." Eunice appeared sufficiently penitent.

"And get Pepper cleaned up, too."

"Of course, Sister."

"Come on out of there, Shelley." Jude gestured. "Yar in far a hose-down, too. I can't have muddy lunatics mucking about when -"

"I'm not ashamed of a little dirt, Sister." Shelley's chin rose proudly. She showed no signs of leaving the garden plot.

"No, I suspect yar hardly a stranger to filth. But I said come outta there. That's enough of this tomfoolery."

"Jealous, Sister Jude?" Shelley plucked a muddy cucumber from the dirt, wiped it on her mud encrusted jumper, and ran it suggestively down her thigh. "Sorry you missed out on all the dirty fun?"

"Shelley!" Eunice hissed, watching Jude fume. "Come on! Stop this!"

"Stop what?" Shelley asked innocently. "I'm going to finish tying up these tomato plants."

"I'm going to tie _you_ up, Shelley." Jude stepped toward the plot. "In a straightjacket. Then I'm gonna throw you in solitary far a few days before I bend you ovah my desk and -"

"Oh, Sister Jude, I love it when you talk dirty to me." Shelley bent over and hiked her skirt, showing Jude her muddy butt.

Eunice gasped. "Shelley!"

"Mary Eunice." Jude pointed calmly toward the asylum. "Go. Send me Frank, and clean yarself up and get Pepper squared." Pepper climbed back into the filthy wheel Barrow, resuming her airplane noises with delight.

"Yes, Sister Jude!" Eunice wheeled Pepper away without question.

"Just you and me now, Sister." Shelley stepped to the edge of the garden plot. "Wanna swap secrets?"

"I won't tolerate this behavior, Shelley. Especially not today. When Frank gets here -"

"Oh please. Frank doesn't scare anybody. Not like you do. Fuck Frank, Sister Jude." Shelley paused. "Or...have you already?"

Jude bristled. How could one person be so infuriating? She stepped within a foot of the lunatic. "Shelley. I'm gonna count ta three."

"Impressive. Did they teach you all that math at nun school?"

"One." Shelley smiled slowly, twisting a muddy curl. "Two." Now she yawned, feigning complete disinterest in Jude's threats. "Three."

A sharp yelp. Shelley snatched Jude like a cracker from the Communion plate, hurled the nun into the mud with abandon. "That's my favorite number, bitch!" She laughed riotously as Jude slipped and struggled in the impossible sludge. She'd managed to steady herself on all fours when Shelly mounted her, smashing her face into the watery black soil. "Eat dirt, Sister Jude!"

"You fucking bitch." Jude spat mud. Fury took over - as well as Frank's defensive training. She flipped the nympho, putting her shoulders into the action. "Yar gonna pay far that!" She straddled Shelley's midriff.

"Good thing I've been saving up!" Shelley slapped a generous handful of pure muck into the nun's face.

"Aaargh!" Jude howled anger, wiping mud from her eyes. Shelley took advantage of her blindness and shoved her onto her back, turning the tables.

They struggled in the sloppy soil, both finding difficulty gaining any purchase but determined to destroy one another. Shelley managed to get to her feet, knees still bent, and Jude slammed her own knee behind one of the appendages. "Ow!" Shelley yelped, tumbling over Jude's head. "Fuck!" A long, loud rip pierced the air as Jude's habit tore cleanly to her hip.

"Fuck indeed." The older woman scrambled onto Shelley's back, grabbing a shank of blonde, straight locks and pressing her turned head into the dirt. "You bettah start prayin' I don't kill ya right now, Shelley."

"That's an unforgivable sin, Sister!" Shelley bucked, sending Jude awry with a few fingers of hair. The lunatic winced at the pain but volleyed quickly, crawling toward the rising nun. She gripped two hands full of black fabric and used Jude as a bastion to pull herself to her feet. Jude got her own grip on Shelley's jumper, snapping a strap free and shoving until they fell again. She came to rest between Shelley's flailing legs. "Why, Judy," Shelley growled. "I didn't know you felt this way."

"Damn you!" Jude slipped sandy fingers over Shelley's mouth, pushing up on her face. "Yar not gonna be able ta sit far a month when I'm done with you, I swear ta God!"

"Mmmrmammmermmejgmab!" Shelley grunted and cursed under Jude's strong hand, a slippery breast scrunching under a bony elbow. The pain of a titty squish inflamed her and she leveled the playing field succinctly, ripping buttons and opening Jude's habit.

"Ah!" The nun staggered, arm up to protect her modesty and Shelley launched herself into a cream satin-clad midsection.

Jude's wimple caught on a cucumber trellis as she tumbled backward again, releasing a mane of typically controlled flaxen curls. Shelley pressed all of her weight atop her struggling victim. "Isn't this great, Sister?" She panted, insinuating herself between Jude's thighs. "Just two savage beasts answering the call of the wild." She rubbed a dollop of mud across Jude's chest, felt the hot heartbeat beneath her palm.

"Yar the only savage here, Shelley!" Jude gasped, spitting murky water into Shelley's face. She slapped a hand away from her cleavage. "And I'm about ta tame ya!" No more playtime. She managed to free an elbow, cocked her arm as far back as the ground would allow, and sent a punch straight into Shelley's neck.

The patient coughed, reached for her throat. Jude grabbed that same throat and rolled, pinning the wiry, wiley woman beneath her at last. Shelley's eyes watered. She worried her windpipe was crushed, but found it intact enough to deliver another round of profanity. "You salty fucking cunt!" She slapped at Jude's hands, scratched at her face. Mud flew between them. "You're the goddamn devil!"

"You have no idea, angel face!" Jude drew one arm away from Shelley's neck, preparing to deliver a lights out blow when -

"Hey, hey, hey!" Frank's keys jangled loudly as he ran to the scene. "That's enough! That's enough." He, too, slipped a bit in the mud, taking hold of Jude's cocked arm. "What the fuck is goin' on here?"

"She's trying to kill me!" Shelley cried.

Carl appeared behind Frank, laughing too hard to be of any help, really. "Jesus Christ!" The orderly managed to secure Shelley, tugging her from underneath the nun Frank was steadying.

"You lying piece of shit!" Jude lunged for Shelley, who screamed and threw her face into Carl's chest, cowering dramatically.

"Whoah! Woah, there, tiger!" Frank wrapped arms around Jude's waist, barely restraining her. The mud threatened their precarious balance. "Don't let her get to ya, Jude. Calm down now!"

"Don't tell me ta calm down!" Jude snapped, tearing herself from Frank's grip. "She started this and I'm gonna finish it!" Frank grabbed her again, teetering to hold the slippery female bent on murder.

"I was tying up the tomato plants!" Shelley wept, still clinging to Carl (who was in paroxysms of painful laughter), dodging behind him as if to escape Jude's wrath. "And she did this to me!"

"Sister Jude!" The Monsignor's voice rang strong, echoing in the firmament. There was amazement in the tone - consternation and concern and a generous dose of disbelief. His handsome face was screwed up in an escalating tangle of absolute distress. His mouth said, "What is happening here!?" But his mind and expression clearly said, "What the genuine fuck is fucking going on in this garden of earthly fuckery?!"

Time froze. Frank straightened, arms falling away from the half dressed nun. Carl curled his arm over Shelley's sobbing shoulder, still laughing to the point he was now crying. Jude heaved, catching her breath, face a smear of dirt and bloody scratches, one long leg completely exposed by torn habit and fallen stocking, muddy handprints marring the pale skin of a thigh. She appeared for all the world like some sort of tattooed warrior queen, camouflaged for jungle guerilla warfare. A veritable Boudica in Catholic trappings. Her chest rose and fell rapidly in its filthy lingerie. Shocked, and shaking with waning rage, she slowly pulled what was left of her habit together over herself. Flicked muck from her face in a gesture of futility. "Monsignor," she whispered, eyes meeting his with as much dignity as she could muster.

"Heavens above! Jude! My child!" The Mother Superior stepped from behind the priest, eyes wide in concern. Her mouth gaped like a train tunnel.

"Carl!" Frank snapped at the _still _laughing orderly. He was one of the only people involved who could make any sense at the moment. "Get Shelley outta here! Hose her down and put her in solitary!"

"But I didn't _do_ anything!" Shelley wailed again, playing victim like she was up for an Academy Award.

"Bullshit!" Frank was wrapping his jacket over Jude's shoulders, trying to calm her shaking.

Four pairs of eyes silently watched Carl escort a weeping Shelley down the garden path. Then, three pairs of eyes all turned directly to Jude.

The nun sniffled, inhaling a little mud. She held Frank's jacket closed, and dusted dried muck from her destroyed habit - as if that could help. "Mother Superior." She shook rampant, filthy curls from her face, spat a little mud, and straightened beatifically. Her arms spread in a graceful reception. "Welcome to our garden."

The bathroom was quiet. Occasionally, a sniffle echoed in the tiny chamber. The water was hot and Jude's skin grew pink. She'd scrubbed clean in the shower, but Mother Claudia had insisted she gave a long soak.

In fact, Mother Claudia sat just outside the bathroom door, back against the wall in Jude's office chair. The old nun calmly sipped from a delicate china tea cup. "Alright in there, child?" She checked one more time.

Jude smiled unseen. "I'm fine, Mother. Really." She pressed a warm flannel to her slightly swollen cheek and winced.

Claudia sighed. Jude heard the sigh. "I must say this makes me regret recommending you so strongly to the Monsignor for this position. It should have been a brother of the church." Her little tea cup clinked in its saucer. "This is no job for a nun. Or any self-respecting woman."

Now Jude chuckled. "I've come to expect the unexpected."

"It's dangerous, Jude!"

"Ohh, Shelley's not that dangerous." Jude grimaced as she stood in the tub, lifting the rubber plug with her toes. God forbid she should mention last week's drug-induced horrors; her mentor might not survive. She tugged the white towel from its nearby bar and began an aggressive drying off, scanning her body for its minor bruises and scrapes. "Shelley's just...difficult."

"I thought you were going to kill her today!"

"I was." Jude assured. "At the time." She mused as she dressed in the clean dry undergarments on the hook by the door. "Shelley has a remarkable ability to challenge my patience. And my control."

Outside, Claudia chuckled. "Perhaps she was sent by God, then. To test you. To teach you."

"If you were to suggest she was sent by the devil I might believe you, Mothah." Jude wrapped her head in the towel. A thick grey terry robe hid her unmentionables and she entered her chambers, rubbing fondly the Mother Superior's shoulder in passing.

"Not too much damage, then?" Claudia asked.

Jude extracted a clean habit from a tall wardrobe, using the door as a screen to dress. "Only my pride."

"Hmph." Claudia shuffled to a bedside table and set down her teacup. "I thought you were doing an admirable job." She patted Jude's re-covered head, watching her tie her boot laces.

"Really?"

Claudia smiled as only an aged nun can smile and sat beside Jude on the foot of her bed. "If I were a betting woman, I would have put my money on you."

Jude's eyes welled. Her lips trembled in their smile. She dropped her head on Mother Claudia's shoulder. "Thank you, Mothah."

"Hmmmm." A contented hum and a genuine hug. Jude let her defenses melt in the warm embrace of beloved confidante. "Are you alright, Sister?"

Insightful, Claudia was. Jude swallowed emotion. "Sometimes...I feel overwhelmed."

"You must tell the Monsignor, Jude. He recognizes that you are a human being. That you -"

"No, no." Jude straightened, shaking her head. "Not just by Briarcliff. More by…" She reached for the right words.

"Life in general?"

"Yes." Perfect.

"Are you questioning your faith, Jude?"

Jude blinked. Was she? No. She believed in God. She always had. Even when he disappointed her - challenged her - sought to break her in so many ways… She always believed what her mother had once said: that God always answers our prayers, but not always in the ways we expect. She'd found this to be true. And she'd found that patience always proved it.

She believed in Timothy Howard. Her faith in him was unshakable. And she felt he believed in her, too.

She had faith in Mary Eunice. The young nun was the purest soul Jude had ever known, with the biggest heart. And for some strange reason, she emulated Jude. Looked up to her. Eunice… kept Jude honest.

She had faith in Frank. A blush rose in her cheeks. He was a good man. Honest and kind. Respectful. He treated her well. And somehow, he saw something within her she couldn't see in herself.

And _this _woman. Jude most definitely had faith in Mother Claudia. Even when her own life had been in ruins, her mentor had believed in her. Had built the sister - the woman - Jude was now.

"No." Jude finally answered confidently. "No, Mothah. I think my faith is strongah than evah."

Claudia nodded, needing to hear those words. "Well, child. I remember telling you once that saving souls could be extraordinarily dirty work."

"I remembah."

"But I had no idea you would take me so literally!" In the sunlight streaming through Jude's little window, it felt good to laugh.

They prepared lunch together in the kitchen. Jude, Mother Claudia, and Mary Eunice, who was contrite to the point of barely controlled tears. "I'm so so sorry, Sister Jude."

"Stop apologizing, Eunice." Jude layered cucumber slices onto fresh bread. Claudia watched their exchange from the sink. "What's done is done."

"I lost control of the situation."

"You were havin' fun." Jude shrugged. "It happens."

"Dr. Arden blames something called serotonin." Eunice layered ham slices. "Some chemical in the brain."

"Ya told Dr. Arden?" Jude was scandalized.

"Frank told him. They had to tranquilize Shelley, and he asked what had happened to her."

"Hm. And what did Shelley say?"

"Um… that you attacked her in the garden."

Jude gaped. "And what did Arden say ta that?"

"He laughed and said he wished he'd seen that." Jude groaned. "Frank gave us a pretty good play by play of what he saw." Jude groaned again. "I'm pleased you won, Sister!" Eunice grinned.

"Eunice. It wasn't about-"

"She certainly did!" Mother Claudia interrupted, chuckling.

"Chop this lettuce, Eunice." Jude handed her two heads, keen to avoid further talk of the incident. And not a moment too soon as the Monsignor appeared in the doorway. "Fathah." Jude greeted him. "Just in time far lunch."

No one spoke of the incident over lunch. In fact, the entire affair was painfully awkward and quiet. Mother Superior was highly complimentary of the fresh vegetables, particularly praising Eunice for her initiative in starting the garden. Jude was pleased to see Eunice taking pride in her hard work, but distracted by Timothy's nearly constant stare.

They saw Mother Claudia off all together after they'd eaten. She left laden with two baskets of vegetables to share with the sisters and a promise to return for another 'delightful afternoon.' When she leaned in to kiss Jude's cheek, she murmured, "Good job, Jude. You put up a hell of a fight!" She left with a giggle.

The trio on the stoop smiled until Claudia's taxi was out of sight. "Eunice," Jude said. "I think we should have a discussion about this afternoon's...activities."

But the Monsignor saved Eunice from her dreaded reporting. "Perhaps later for that, Sister Jude. I would like a word with you first."

Jude's jaw tightened. "Of course, Fathah."

In her office, Timothy paced. She sat behind her desk, awaiting a throttle. He ended up behind her, staring out the window again. "Do you care to tell me what happened today, Jude?" She sighed. Gave him a brief but honest itinerary of events leading to her impromptu Sumo session with Shelley. At the end of her calm and complete delivery, the priest pursed his lips. His fingers laced behind his back. "Sister. Do you feel that you are capable of handling the likes of Shelley? Or worse? Given today's unfortunate occurrences? Not to mention last week's...sordid circumstance."

"Last week was out of my control, Monsignor." She defended tightly but with respect. "Or anyone else's."

"True." He came to sit in the chair across from her desk. "And today?"

"I could have done bettah." It was gut-wrenching to admit. She should have walked away from Shelley. Should have returned to the asylum and sent Frank to collect the lunatic. Instead she… "I allowed my anger to get the bettah of me."

"I'm not angry, Sister." He stressed. "I'm simply concerned. I've never known you to be what I would call a violent personality but what I witnessed today was -"

"An exception." She reassured him firmly. "I promise you, Fathah. Also a lesson." She tried a shaky smile. "Mother Claudia believes Shelley may be sent from God to teach me."

"Sister. You could tell me you imagined the devil sent her and I might believe you."

Jude laughed hard despite herself. "Please, Fathah. Don't lose faith in me. I work very hard to keep control over this institution and its residents."

"Too much control can be detrimental, Jude." He spoke very softly. "Trust me. Even controlling one's self can be...taxing." He rubbed his temples, closing his deep brown eyes.

Jude studied him, wondering at the deeper meaning behind those words. "I attempt to utilize my team to the best of my abilities...Timothy."

"Well." She watched him struggle against an amused smile. He lost. "I believe after today you shall find your reputation as a...forceful administrator...is quite set in stone." She dropped her head into her hands, fully flushing, and moaned embarrassment. "Or more appropriately I should say - mud." He laughed at Jude's mortified expression.

She was not at all surprised by the knock on her office door that evening. 10 o'clock. Ever punctual. "Frank." She gestured him into the room.

He was already controlling a huge grin. "Sistah Jude."

"Oh, go on, then." She waved. "Have yar laugh."

"No laughing matter!" He perched on the edge of her desk. "After all, I'm talkin' to the first title-holding lightweight wrestling champion of Briarcliff Manor."

"Lightweight?" Jude rolled her eyes, grinning. "I'm welterweight if I'm an ounce."

Frank shrugged. "Well, they say black is slimming." A wink.

She sat in her guest chair, propped on her fist and looked up at him. "Musta looked pretty crazy."

"Actually…" The guard rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. "You made that mud look damn sexy."

"Frank!" She slapped at his knee.

"Ow! Damn! Honestly!" He rubbed the knee. "I woulda gone a round or two with ya."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The moonlight cut his features handsomely. He sobered. "You okay, Jude?"

"I'm fine."

"Ya seem thoughtful."

"Sometimes I think, Frank."

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"Thinkin' I got nothin' to wear on a date."

His smile showed teeth. "Well, it's just a movie. No need to get fancy."

"I'll just wear this, then." She stroked her habit.

His smile fell. "Yer kiddin' me."

"Maybe." The twinkle in her eye answered him affirmatively.

"So...we're on?"

"We're on." She pursed her lips pensively. "I need ta get out. Especially aftah today's debacle. And...I'm lookin' forward to yar company, Frank."

"Makes two of us." He stood, stretching and yawning. "I'll collect ya at five? Dinner and a show?"

His yawn made Jude yawn. "Mm-hm. And Frank?" He turned at her door. She leaned over the chair back and batted eyelashes. "I like ice cream."

"Sure thing, boss." He tipped his hat. "Gotta keep ya in yer weight class, after all."

Alone, she bit her lip. Probably a worse idea than mud wrestling a patient - going on a date with her head of security. _What the hell are we playing at? _She yawned again, exhausted. Glad for a day off. She'd given rounds to Eunice for the evening and stood before her open wardrobe. "Damn." She really _did _have nothing to wear on a date...


	10. The Worst Date Ever in History

At 5:30 AM, the prediction had been clouds. At 7 AM, the weather services upgraded to rain. By 8:15 AM, thunderstorms loomed. And by noon, the rain was already upon them, and the predictions had turned to gail force winds, hail, possible tornadoes, and dangerous lightning. Jude's frown had deepened with every update, and once the thunder started, she came to two difficult decisions.

She went to Arden first. Found him in his basement office doing...science things. She'd knocked hesitantly, never knowing quite what to expect. "Just a moment," he called. She waited, hands in habit pockets, swaying on the balls of her feet. The door swung open with an obnoxious creak. She winced. "Sister Jude!" His voice was pleasant. Welcoming. He gestured her inside. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Pleasure indeed," she smiled. "I imagine seeing my face at this point brings a cringe of what's to come, Dr. Arden."

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a suspiciously stained towel. "I'm always up for a challenge. Please. Sit."

"I'll only keep you a moment." She looked to the pig dissected on nearby table. It seemed to be connected to electrodes of some sort. "As I can see yar...busy."

"A minor experiment, I assure you."

"Ah." She gathered herself. "I assume yar aware now of the gathering storm, doctah?"

"Yes. It does pose several concerns."

"Well, my first concern is far our rambunctious patients. If this storm is to last several days - as projected - I fear their mindsets becoming dangerous ta themselves and othahs."

"A practical concern." He nodded, thinking. "Do you have a plan?"

"I wanted to consult you. The professional. The scientist."

Arden smiled. It was almost disconcerting somehow. "I appreciate your gesture, Sister. And...I suppose I _do _have a bit of a contingency plan, if you're amenable."

"I'm all ears."

"A gentle sedative. Dispensed in their drinks in a small dosage throughout the day, then increased this evening to aid in their sleep."

Jude considered. That actually sounded...quite rational. "I think that's an excellent idea, doctah. Very compassionate."

He shrugged. "Just enough to get them through the extended storm. And still effective even if we should lose power for any amount of time. God forbid." He raised his hands, then grimaced. "Forgive me, Sister. I don't mean to blaspheme."

"Not at all. I hope God _does _forbid that happening."

"I'll leave the prayers to you, then. The professional." Arden winked.

Jude nodded, smiling at his joke. "I'll do my best, then." She turned to leave. "I'll let you partner with the head cook. I've already told her to try to work through as much food as possible in case we lose refrigeration. So there will be copious amounts of fresh squeezed orange juice."

"Perfect." Arden saw her to the door. "I'll measure out the proper amounts."

"Thank you, doctah."

"Sister."

She turned on the basement step. "Yes?"

"I think we're going to make a fine team."

She blinked, a nod before rejoining the upper seven circles. She wasn't quite completely sold on that team just yet…

"Mary Eunice!"

Her assistant scampered to her side. "Yes, Sister Jude?"

"Have we completed the laundering?"

"Almost. We're stockpiling linens now in the second floor corridor."

"Excellent." Jude glanced around at the nuns and orderlies, all busy with some task or other. "Have you seen Frank?"

"He's with Carl and a few other guards. I believe they're shuttering the windows."

"I see. Would you send him to my office, please?"

"Of course, Sister."

Jude ignored the peculiar, almost knowing expression on Eunice's face. She made her way confidently to her office, fingers swift on the rotary phone. Monsignor Howard had been away for the last two days in Danvers, touring another church-owned facility there. She wouldn't have called had it not been an emergency, and she fully expected to leave him a message with the answering service. So she was quite surprised when he hurried to take the call.

"Sister Jude?" His voice sounded urgent.

"Yes, Fathah. I apologize far interrupting yar -"

"Not at all, Jude. Is everything all right?"

"It is. I wanted to assure you that we've taken all necessary precautions against the coming storm. Briarcliff should be successfully protected."

"Thank God." He sighed. "I confess I've been worried. I'm leaving Danvers momentarily. I should be back at -"

"No! Don't ya dare drive in these conditions!" Jude couldn't keep the concern out of her own voice. "Stay where ya are, Monsignor. Be safe. We're all in good hands here. I wanted to allay yar fears, not increase them."

"I trust you, Sister." He did sound calmer. "But I know how our patients can behave in inclement weather."

"Dr. Arden and I have solved that problem."

"Oh!" She heard the surprise and rolled her eyes. "Well. That's lovely, Jude. I hope he didn't overstep any boundaries of authority?"

"I consulted him."

The pause was as bad as the surprise. "I'm very pleased at that. It sounds as though the two of you are making excellent professional progress."

She could have gagged. A knock sounded at her door. "Fathah. I have a vistah. Still tying up some loose ends here."

"Of course, of course. I'll see you soon, Jude. And…" She held her breath. "You're in my prayers."

"Likewise, Fathah." She whispered, softly replacing the receiver. "Come in."

"I have a feeling I know what this is about."

"I'm sorry, Frank." And she really was. Dreadfully sorry. She'd wanted that date so badly and now….

"Hey." Frank perched on the edge of her desk, peering down at her. "There's always next time."

"I know, but…" She sighed. "This wasn't what I had in mind for the weekend, anyway."

"Nah. I don't think anybody enjoys this kinda shit."

"And you should go. Before the rain floods out all the roads."

"I'm stayin'."

"No, yar not." She insisted. "Frank, ya earned this weekend and it'll be a solid month befar ya get anothah one. Go home. Take care of yar own place. Cook. Get some candles and fill the tub and -"

"This is sounding pretty romantic, Judy."

"Dammit, Frank!" But she laughed. She would miss him through the storm. But she would never admit that. "We've got this undah control."

"Listen. Jude. No offense, kay?" And he held up his hands to demonstrate his innocence. She gestured for him to continue. "Last time I had a weekend off I came up here to find you melting in the grip of a mass hysteria. I would personally feel better if I could stay here tonight and...help out however I can."

Jude sighed. He was right. She smiled. Honestly… "Frank. I'll admit that I'll...feel bettah with you here."

"Yeah?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't let it go to yar head."

He grinned. "I'll start lockin' up loonies."

"Leave 'em. Dr. Arden and I have a plan to keep them quiet."

"Really?" His disbelief wasn't completely reassuring.

"Really!" She shoved at his thigh. "Go help Eunice distribute extra blankets. If the power goes out it's gonna get cold."

Frank nodded, headed to the door. "If you need any help staying warm -"

"I'll build a fire." She hushed him.

He paused in the jamb, blocking her progress. "I'm pretty good with wood, Sistah."

"Are ya?" She asked coyly.

"I am." He tipped his hat. "I was a scout, ya know."

"Well." Jude slipped past him, purposefully brushing her breasts against his chest. "I'm pretty knowledgeable when it comes to stroking wood, myself." She smiled at his groan.

Arden's idea worked remarkably well, actually. Jude walked among the common room's inhabitants without a cringe. Even Shelley and Pepper were quiet, barely acknowledging her from their game of Rummy.

In the kitchen, she found Arden droppering a clear liquid into trays of orange juice. "Is this our magic potion?" She asked.

Arden nodded. "Indeed. A benzodiazipine compound that I've gentled with a touch of cannabis oil."

"Cannabis." Her brow rose.

"Yes." The doctor paused. "It's um...a natural compound, actually. Homeopathic, if you will."

"It's a marijuana derivative."

He glanced at her, clearly surprised. "Ah...it is, Sister."

Jude smiled slowly. "I wasn't always a nun, Doctah. No wondah they're so happy out there." She picked up the vial on the butcher block, sniffed it. "Yep."

Arden had trouble hiding his smile. "So long as it's working."

"Indeed." Jude looked around. "I assume most of our staff has evacuated?"

"I believe all tertiary employees are gone, yes. A few orderlies are left and several of our volunteering sisters."

"Good. I'll help you distribute the lunchtime doses?"

"Thank you, Sister. But they're already flocking to me like Christ with loaves and fishes when they see this tray."

"I see." Jude folded her hands behind her back. "Then I'll get out of yar way."

"Not at all, Sister." Arden pocketed the last of the magic potion. "I'll be at your disposal should you need me." He took a tray, and departed with a nod.

Jude opened the refrigerator, pleased to find an abundance of food wrapped for simple re-heating and cold cut sandwiches piled high for patients. She smirked. Probably a good thing if they were all going to have the munchies later. She lifted the lid on a large stock pot and found a passable spaghetti sauce inside. "Hm." She was developing a rather lovely idea…

The storm stepped up its game around 4 PM. It rattled the shutters, but not the patients. Jude decided Arden had his uses. When the lights began to flicker, she set up candles in her office and personal chambers. Did the same in the kitchen.

In the common room, patients were smiling. Lounging. Eating everything in sight. It was blissful.

Grabbing a flashlight just in case, she made her way to the security office. The door was open. When she stepped inside, she heard Frank and paused.

"After 6 PM dinner is served, the loonies are gonna be ready fer beddy-bye. Carl, you and Justin see to getting them secured. We got the generator up and running, but only fer the locking system. Everything else is second priority to keeping lockdown at 100%. Kosher?" There were grunts of acknowledgment from the orderlies and security officers. "Clyde. You'll be in charge of 9 PM checks. Rusty. You'll take the witching hour. There's a shit pot fulla food in the kitchens fer lunches at usual times. Should be nice and quiet tonight. Boss Lady and Dr. Frankenstein worked some kinda science and the nuts are quiet as a buncha church mice right now. So." He clapped his hands together. "Everybody disperse."

Jude stood aside as orderlies and security filed past before stepping into Frank's office. He was bent over his desk, rifling through some papers. "Boss Lady?"

"Shit!" He turned. "Yeah. Boss Lady. Scarin' the hell out of me."

"Dr. Frankenstein?"

Frank shrugged. "I got nicknames. Why? You don't like Boss Lady?"

"I don't mind it." She _loved _it.

"Good. So… What's up, Boss Lady?"

"I have an idea."

"Dangerous."

"I know." She sat in his chair. It was creaky. "Tonight. Ten o'clock. After lunches and lights out and all the church mice are snug-a-bed…" She toyed with his stapler. He watched her hands, captivated. "We meet in the kitchens."

Frank grinned. "Is this an on the clock date, Jude?"

"It's a candlelight dinnah."

"I'm in." He slipped his stapler from her fingers. Leaned close to her. "What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti." She murmured.

"Nice. And...desert?"

"I'm afraid I don't have anything prepared."

"What a shame."

"Maybe I can whip something up." His breath tickled her lips.

"I'm sure we can find something...sweet."

"Mmm." Her eyes were drifting closed. His lips were drifting closer. But an atrocious bang and sudden pitch blackness startled the pair. "Ah!" Jude jolted in the creaky chair, hands sliding across desk desperately. She'd set that flashlight down…

"Hey, hey." Frank's calm voice penetrated the dark. "It's alright." A loud rumble shook the firmament. "That's just the generator. Here we go." A shaft of light glowed. Frank's flashlight.

Jude was surprised to see him standing so close to her. His light revealed her own and he handed it to her. "Thank you." She stood. Her throat was tight. "I should go check on everyone."

"Me too." She bit her lips, looking for the switch on her flashlight. A click. And they were in darkness again.

"Frank! What are you -"

His lips silenced hers quickly. Firmly. She melted. A strong arm wrapped her waist, supporting her against a solid chest. They both moaned at the sensation. His mouth tasted like tea. He smelled pleasantly of pipe smoke, soap, and lust. Jude pushed onto her toes, angled right. Frank angled left. Slightly calloused fingers stroked the soft skin behind her ear. She whined at the pleasure. The encompassing dark hid them, held them captive in a moment.

A moment that ended with yelling.

"Ay, Frank! Looks like we're gonna have ta accelerate some plans!" It was Carl. A beam of light penetrated the blackened office.

Jude leaned against the sturdy desk, chest heaving. She felt lightheaded. When Frank's gentle fingers brushed over her jaw, leaving it, she nearly followed the fleeting caress. "I hear ya, Carl!"

The security guard called over her shoulder. "On my way!" Carl's light scurried on down the hall just as Jude managed to find the switch on hers. "Sorry about that," Frank murmured.

She chuffed softly. "I hope yar not."

"Nah, I'm not." He cupped her cheek briefly. "Y'okay?"

"Mmhm." A deep breath. She gathered herself. "I'm just gonna…" A useless gesture to the door.

"Yeah, yeah." He matched the gesture. "Duty calls." In the doorway, she had to steady herself one more time. "Until ten?"

She looked back. In the sharp contrast of her flashlight, Frank's face cut handsomely. "Ten," she whispered.

Lockdown went more smoothly than ever. Patients seemed genuinely pleased to retire in the pitch black. They'd been given flashlights to combat the menacing dark, and many waved them about, giggling or even singing. A motley litany of childish verses, fight anthems, hymns or whatever remembered snippet penetrated the addled brain. A bit of a cacophony, Jude thought. But hey… They were happy.

Jude stood at the end of C-Hall, watching doors click shut one by one. Peace descending with each sliding lock. Orderlies, security and patients were an organized ballet of activity. And when the dancers cleared the floor, and all the doors were shut, in the flickering emergency lighting, Jude saw Dr. Arden standing at the opposite end of the hall. Tall as herself and as straight, he met her eyes and nodded, a smile of victory.

Jude returned the nod. But for the briefest second, on a particularly harsh glimmer of light, he'd looked for all the world like some skeletal demon.

She shook the image, heading to the common room for final checks. It seemed all patients were secured, so she made her way to the main entrance. In the elaborate marbled foyer the doors rattled violently against their locks. The wind was a force now, threatening to destroy. She felt like one of the three little pigs. Only Briarcliff was no straw house. It would stand against any storm.

"Sister?"

Jude turned at the delicate address. "Mary Eunice. Is all well?"

"Volunteer staff are settling in for the night. God willing, it will be a peaceful night." A crash of thunder and the girl muffled a shriek.

"And yarself?"

"I'll be fine, Sister." Eunice touched at her wimple. Took a deep breath. "I'm going to bunk with the other sisters tonight. In the library."

"Good. I know storms aren't yar forté."

"Not exactly."

"Nothing to be scared of, little sistah. It's out there, and we're in here."

"I know, but -"

An unearthly banging startled both nuns. Even Jude nearly shrieked (nearly), grabbing hold of a crumpled Eunice as if to protect the younger woman. She whirled toward the door, wide eyes taking in an ominous shadow there. Great black wings fluttered against the door glass, casting a shadow even across the flashlight's beam.

Jude was embarrassingly frozen until she recognized the sound of keys jangling, clanging against the main door's metal plate. "Oh!" She rushed from Eunice, producing her own keys. The door flung wide, pushing Jude against the wall.

The ominous bird creature stumbled into the entrance, its great black wings actually a wind-blown poncho. Eunice scrambled with Jude, pushing the door closed against that devilish wind. Their feet slipped on the rain flooding the foyer. When they finally managed to secure the door, they leaned against it, wet wimples skewed by the intruding weather. They caught their breath, checked each other's welfare before watching - wide eyed - as the mysterious stranger rose dripping from the floor.

"Sisters."

Her disbelief matched her relief. "Monsignor?" Jude stepped toward him, hands out to steady.

"Yes. Of course." He flipped the hood back on the poncho, shaking water out of it. "Forgive me if I…" His voice faltered when he met her eyes. He was studying her face. Her loosed blonde curls. "...if I frightened you."

Jude snapped. "What the Hell were ya thinking?" She snatched at the hooks on his poncho, helping him out of the sopping plastic garment. "I told ya to stay in Danvers! You could have been killed on those roads! Are you crazy?" She touched at his face, his chest, checking him for damage. "The weathah service says the roads are flooded the whole county ovah. How did you even get up here?"

Eunice bustled about at Jude's legs, gathering dropped flashlight and wet poncho. She bit her lip nervously, worried that her older sister's berating might frighten - or worse, anger - the priest. She was surprised when he began to chuckle good naturedly, grabbing at Jude's fussing hands.

"I walked, Sister Jude." He finally stilled her, stepping close, attempting to soothe her ire. "I left my car nearly a mile back and I walked up the road. I was concerned for -"

"_I'm _concerned!" Jude argued. "I'm concerned that you've lost yar mind! Timo - Fathah! That was dangerous! Bordering on foolish! What if -"

"I was concerned for _you_, Jude." He overrode her smoothly. His cold fingers held hers. "For our patients. Our sisters." He nodded at Eunice who smiled at him proudly. "I knew that my place was here. And that God would protect me on my journey back to my fold."

Jude shook her head, frustrated at the man's stubbornness and at her own overreaction. She sighed. "Well, yar certainly blessed, Fathah." Slowly, she retracted her hands from his, re-situated her wimple. "I appreciate yar concern. But -"

"But I'm here now." He spoke finality. Touched her cheek ever so briefly. "And...I'm soaked."

Yes, she saw that. Felt it even. She was standing in his puddle. "Eunice? Take yar wet Monsignor to the kitchens, please. The wood stove should be going. I'll get some towels. Far all of us."

"Yes, Sister." Eunice tugged at Timothy's sleeve. "Come on, Monsignor. Let's get you warmed up."

"Thank you, Mary Eunice."

"You must have felt like Noah in that flood!"

"Rather, I did, Sister!" Timothy chuckled. "I should have brought two of every animal!"

A gasp of joy. "Oh, Father! I would have _loved_ that!" Eunice enthused. Her flashlight disappeared down the hall. Jude listened to their banter fade into the distance, smiling softly.

Her own light guided her to the second floor and the linens they'd stockpiled earlier. They'd anticipated leaks and prepared accordingly. She was stacking towels on one arm, hip holding the linen closet's door open, when another light beam cut her own.

"Who's there?"

An invisible grin. "If I said 'Marlene Dietrich' would you be excited?"

"Of course I would." Frank sauntered up. "But you coulda just said Jude and I'd be just as excited."

She hoped he couldn't make out the twinkle in her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." He whispered, leaning close. "Whatcha doin' up here all alone in the linens?"

Jude feigned disinterest. "I got pretty good security around here. Should I be worried about bein' alone in the linens?"

"You never know what might happen in the dark."

"Oh, I'm starting to realize what can happen in the dark."

"Ya gotta be careful, lady." He took hold of the door over her head. It swayed. "What if this door was to close on us?"

She clutched the towels between their chests, wishing the door would close on them. "What if it did?" She challenged.

"Well, if I was a lesser man…" His other hand drifted up, tugged at a strand of curl she'd missed. "You just might find yerself losing yer own linens."

"Really?" She curled her neck to nudge his hand with her temple. That tightness between her legs was mightily distracting. "Guess I'd get awfully cold with this storm outside."

"I'd warm ya up." His hand slid down the door, just outlining her body.

"How?" She was dying. Her eyes were drifting shut.

"They say body heat's the way ta go." His hand started to slide around her hip. "I'd have to rub…" He trailed off.

Jude's eyes snapped open. "What? Rub what?" She hissed.

"Why are you wet?"

"Because yar talking about rubbing me in the linens?"

"Christ, Jude!" Frank had to step away from her, hand over his face. "That's not what I meant!"

"Oh!" She was glad the darkness hid her bright flush. "Oh. Because the Monsignor - shit!"

"Yeah, he's definitely a shit." She pushed past him. "Woah! Where you goin'?"

"The Monsignor is here! I almost forgot. I have to take these towels." She was rushing down the hall.

"Ten o'clock!" Frank called over the landing.

Her flashlight beam bounced down the stairs. "Ten o'clock!" She called back.

Absently.

She hurried into the kitchens breathless. "Sorry. I um...had ta…" Cleared her throat. "I dropped my linens."

Mary Eunice and Timothy leaned on the butcher block, staring at her. The wood stove was open, casting a lovely warmth and orange light into the room. She blinked at them, holding out the towels, stunned to see them collapse in a fit of shared laughter.

"Sister." Timothy managed through snorts. "I don't think it's appropriate for you to drop your linens around a priest!"

"It's - it's - it's a _bad habit_!" Eunice finally managed.

This sent them into further paroxysms. Jude stepped into the room fully, tossing the towels onto the nearby table. "Are you two alright?"

"We're absolutely blessed." Eunice straightened, sobering. Failing at sobering. "Not stressed!"

They curled laughing again. Jude squinted. "Oh, dear God…" She slipped past the struggling duo to the sink. Took in the cups there with a hand to her lips. "Did you two drink all this juice?" She pointed to the empty cups piled beneath the faucet.

"Mmhm!" Eunice toasted her - with another cup of juice. "And there's more!"

Jude covered her face with both hands. "Mary Eunice," she moaned.

"You should have some, Sister!" Timothy held out a juice as well, snatched it back when she reached for it. "But not this one. This one is mine."

"It's sooooooo goooood!" Eunice said.

"How good is it?" The priest demanded. They dissolved into laughter again.

"Do either of you know what was in this orange juice?" Jude demanded, holding up an empty cup.

"Duh." Eunice belched. "Oranges?" She and Timothy high fived.

"Yeah. Oranges." Jude approached them swiftly, tilting Eunice's face up to see her enlarged pupils. "And a hefty dose of cannabis oil and whatevah else Arden cooked up in his lab."

Eunice whined. "Awwww! Arden has a lab? I love puppies!"

And that reminded Timothy: "We had a puppy when I was in seminary."

"Semen." Eunice snorted.

"Enough!" Jude snapped. "You both need ta go ta bed."

"_You_ go ta bed!" Eunice slapped the butcher block. "You're not my nun supervisor!"

"I most certainly am, young lady!" Jude growled.

"She is." The priest nodded, seeming serious. "And she's having _nun_ of your shenanigans."

Their peals of laughter overrode Jude's further admonitions. She grabbed Eunice's elbow. "Come on here, high child. I'm taking you to bed."

Eunice gasped deeply, yanking her arm from Jude's grasp. "Sister! That's - that's an abomination!" Jude gaped, feeling a bright flush of frustration and embarrassment creep up her neck. "But...if you insist…" The girl leaned into her, giggling.

"Good God, Jude!" Timothy cried. "Unhand the poor devil! What sort of madness goes on here in this...madhouse?"

"Fathah," Jude started, shoving Eunice's head away from her breasts. "I think the two of you are going to wake up tomorrow with a more than healthy headache and an armload of regrets. Dammit, Eunice! Stop!" She shoved harder.

"No regrets!" Eunice shouted.

"Sit down!" Jude shoved the girl into a seat at the table, huffing. "Now -"

"Sister?"

"Ah!" When she turned, Timothy was right behind her. "What?" She snapped, nearing manic.

"Were you...were you taking us _both _ to bed?" He sipped another juice.

"Argh!" Jude slapped the juice from his hand. "I need to two of you ta see reason, here!"

"You have raisins?" Eunice sat up. "I'm _literally_ starving."

"Oh, Heavenly Father. I am, too." Timothy knelt to pick up his cup and nearly toppled. "Well, no use crying over spilled juice!"

"I don't have time far this." Jude faced the altered priest, leveling. "I have a lunatic asylum ta run, and spaghetti ta cook. So you two are gonna have -"

"Gonna have the best spaghetti EVER!" Eunice slapped Jude's ass. "Get in the kitchen, woman!"

"Oh, nononononono." Jude turned to Eunice, rubbing her butt. "That's not happening, little sister."

"Not until Jude takes her shoes off." Timothy straddled the other chair, making his point with a raised finger. "_That _is how the womanfolk do."

"Yooouuu sonofabitch," Jude muttered quietly, unnoticed. "I'm gonna chalk that statement up to yar spiked juice. In fact, I'm gonna chalk this whole situation up to -"

"Wait a second." Eunice spread her hands, epiphany dawning. "What did you say was in that juice? Was it liquor?"

"Lick her?" Timothy asked. "I hardly know her!"

When they collapsed into laughter this time, Jude simply turned away. "You know what? It's not worth it." She opened the walk-in. Extracted the large soup pot. "All day in this shit hole, barely holding it together. And far what? Cooking far two idiots, that's what." She lit the pilot beneath the pot. "Ya know, this wasn't what I signed up far. Becoming a nun. Not at fucking all." She waved a wooden spoon at the now chastised duo, continuing her rant. "Saving souls. That's what I signed up far. And what souls do I get? Pinheads, sluts, chronic masturbators, and one that thinks he's the president of a planet he made up in his own head. _That's _what I get. And now?" An over the shoulder glare at Eunice and Timothy. "You two. Stoned out of yar damn minds. During the worst storm of the year." She breathed deeply, rant over.

"At least it's not your birthday," Eunice offered, voice small.

"_That _would really suck." Timothy agreed.

Jude prayed for strength. She prayed they would pass out soon. Before Frank arrived. That he would have to step over their prone forms to kiss her cheek sweetly. She prayed that this night could somehow be salvaged. That this spaghetti would be delicious. That the storm would abate, becoming a comforting, rumbling soundtrack to gentle, tender lovemaking in her tiny bed. That -

"Pssst. Eunice. Tell her a joke."

Jude rolled her eyes at the stove.

"Ohhh! That's a good idea, Father!" Eunice cleared her throat. "Here goes one. It was a dark and stormy night -"

"I said a joke, Sister."

"Be patient!" Eunice shut the priest down. "And these two nuns were driving down the road."

"Where were they going?" Timothy was entirely enthralled by this joke.

"They were driving back to the convent. Where the hell else do nuns go?" Eunice asked. "Pfft. Anyway. All of a sudden _WHAM_!" Jude jumped at the stove. "A vampire flew out of the sky and landed on top of the car!"

"Vampires aren't real." The Monsignor pointed out. "Are they?"

"Yeah, man!" Eunice poked his arm. "They live in like...haunted hotels and stuff! But this one was out for blood."

"Nun blood."

"Nun blood," Eunice repeated menacingly. "And he crawled down the windshield. So the sister driving swerved all crazy and yelled, 'Holy crap, Sister! Show him your cross!' So the _other _sister leans out the window and goes 'Hey! Get the _fuck_ off our windshield!'" Predictably, this produced even further, deeper laughter. "Get it?" Eunice asked. "Cuz she was _cross_ with the vampire?"

And the laughter led Jude to her third most important decision of the day. Turning from the stove, she entered the refrigerator again. With a smile, she approached the table. "Here." She set two more juices before them. "Dinnah will be ready soon. Drink up." They cheered, and she turned away, mumbling, "Idiots…"

When Frank entered the kitchen - very cautiously - Eunice and Timothy were singing alternate lyrics to popular hymns. They didn't even notice the guard. But neither did Jude. Staring at the singing duo, he slipped up beside Jude. "Um...what the Hell is goin' on in here?"

"They drank the juice." Jude said simply.

"Oh, fuck." Frank grinned. "This is gonna be fun."

"Frank." Jude rubbed at her eyes. "This is going to be the worst date ever in the history of this the planet of Earth."

"We'll just say this one doesn't count." Frank nodded to the table. "Want me ta plate up?" She shrugged, hopeless. He winked at her. "Alright! Time ta eat!" He grabbed plates, setting them before Eunice and the Monsignor.

"Mr. McCann!" Eunice grinned. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Yes, quite a joy," Timothy deadpanned.

"You should have some of this juice." Eunice pointed to her cup. "Sister Jude says it has regrets in it."

"I bet it does, little sister." Frank patted her shoulder. "Monsignor. Glad you made it here in one piece."

"I was concerned." Timothy said. "I knew the storm would create -"

"A shitshow." Eunice dropped.

"A shitshow." Timothy repeated.

Frank shrugged. "Seems like Sister Jude got it pretty well handled, huh?" Jude set a serving bowl of spaghetti on the table. A plate of bread. "_And _made us all dinner tonight. Thank you, Jude." She sat to the table, nodding.

"I am about to eat the ass out of that spaghetti, Sister." Eunice was already serving herself, making a mess. Frank chuckled, moving her plate to catch the drippings.

"Ahem." Timothy cleared his throat, flapping his open palms on the table. "Prayers?"

Eunice took his hand, groaning. "Oh, Jesus Christ…"

"Exactly." Timothy said. Jude took his other hand, and Eunice's, staring at Frank across the table with a look that said '_This_ should be fun.' "Bless this food we're about to eat the arse out of, Heavenly host, that it may nourish our bodies and our minds and our...various tingly bits. And thank the blessed virgin for this juice because honestly...it...is...miraculous. And see us through the storm that tried to drown me earlier and caused me to be verbally abused by Sister Jude, whose hair is really, really, really, really lovely. And protect our Mary Eunice, even though she has some truly foul verbal proclivities. And...Frank. Amen."

They all looked up. Jude was blushing profusely, looking at her plate. Frank was staring at Jude, daring her to meet his eyes, something slightly smug and knowing lighting.

Eunice was stuffing her face. "This is the best fucking spaghetti I've ever had."

Timothy was trying to scoop pasta onto his plate with a fork. "You noodles are being difficult."

Frank wielded the tongs, serving Jude before plopping pasta onto his plate, then the Monsignor's. "There ya go, Father."

"This dinner was a fine idea, Sister." Timothy said. "I feel we don't spend enough time together, really."

"Right?" Eunice gnawed a breadstick like a savage. "We should all do this every week!"

"Oh, yes." The Monsignor smiled patiently. "You um...you and Frank should also come."

Jude still avoided Frank's gaze, the awkwardness becoming painful. He forced the issue. "Sistah."

"What?" Jude and Eunice spoke at once, both looking to the guard.

Frank smiled. "Jude. Dinner is great. Thank you fer fixing it up."

"I didn't cook it." She folded her napkin in her lap nervously. "I'll be sure ta tell the cook ya enjoyed it. She did a good job."

"I'll slap _her _ass tomorrow." Eunice vowed.

"I'll pay to see that." Frank said, nodding.

"No, you won't." Jude pointed at him. "Don't fuel her fire. Besides, Eunice. I don't think you'll remembah any of this tomorrow."

The young nun's gaze was beginning to glaze over. "I think...I'm sleepy," she murmured suddenly.

"I bet you are." Jude's lips pursed. "What about you, Monsignor? Monsignor?"

Timothy jolted upright in his chair, clearly groggy. "I will hear your confession now."

"One time, I made my cousin Ray put a hotdog in his butthole," Eunice offered, laying her head on the table. Her wimple went into her spaghetti.

"That's…" Timothy seemed to consider for a moment. "That's pretty much par for the course." His head rolled backward suddenly, mouth open.

Silence.

Jude let out the breath she felt she'd held for the last hour and a half. "Yep." Frank slapped his knees. "That was as much fun as I thought it'd be."

"Frank." She shook her head.

"Best date ever, Jude." He stood. "I'm gonna take the little sister here to her bed. Is she in the library?"

"Yes. Just...put her on a cot. I'll clean up down here." Jude began bustling about.

"I'll come back far the Monsignor there." He lifted Eunice with ease, holding his flashlight against her back.

Eunice snuggled like a baby in Frank's arms. "Have the lambs stopped screaming?" She asked sleepily.

Frank was grinning as he took her from the kitchen. "I really shoulda had some of that juice."

Jude swept the table clean quickly, ignoring the now snoring priest. She was quite done with this evening. Dumped the dishes into the sink and ran the water full blast. They could soak. She flung her balled up apron across the room. Tugged her wimple off and stuffed it in her pocket. She scratched her head vigorously. Considered taking a sip of that juice herself.

When Frank reappeared, she was dusting crumbs off the Monsignor. "Need me ta help ya with him?"

"Nah. He's a twig." He hefted the priest over a shoulder, not nearly as gentle as he'd been with Eunice. Jude winced. "Lead the way, Boss Lady." Frank handed Jude his flashlight.

She had a key to Timothy's office on her keyring. The door swung open to darkness. Jude pointed out his personal chamber door. "Through there."

Frank deposited him unceremoniously on the small bed. "Listen. I ain't tuckin' him in."

Jude tisked. "Will you see if you can find another flashlight in his office? In case he wakes up in the night?" She was tugging off Timothy's shoes when Frank left the room, grumbling. "You are really somethin' else, you know that, Timothy Howard?" She whispered. She slipped his collar free, just wanting him to be comfortable. There was a chill in the room. She worked the quilt out from beneath him to spread it over him. "There." Patted his chest.

She gasped when he grabbed her wrist. "Jude."

"Fathah." She rubbed the fingers clutching her, easing the grip. He didn't let go. "I'm just putting ya to bed."

"You're not coming to bed with me?"

"No!" She hissed. "Of course not!"

Frank popped back in, flicking a flashlight on and off. "Found one!"

"Shh!" Jude snatched the light with her free hand, set it on the small bedside table. "Here's a light if you -"

"Going to bed with him, then." She froze, wrist still in the priest's grip. Her mouth opened, but nothing would come out. "Lie to me, Jude. Please." He was drifting...

She finally jerked her wrist free. "Good night, Fathah." Her habit snapped when she spun away. "Let's go, Frank."

She closed Timothy's door quietly, quick to turn toward her own rooms. She absolutely would _not _think of what the Monsignor had said. Not now. Not tonight. Best not...ever. "Hey." Frank stopped her, gently taking a shoulder. His concern creased his brow. "What'd he say ta you?"

"Nothing." She turned again.

"Jude."

"Are you coming?"

He blinked like a nunce. "Coming where?"

"With me, Frank."

"With...with you."

"Did you drink the damn juice, too?" She approached him. "I'd like something good to come out of this night, dammit. One good thing. Please, Frank. Don't you want that, too?" She reached up to stroke his lightly stubbled cheek. He nodded, reached up to cup her hand. "So. Kiss me." She pressed against him . "Again."

"No, Jude." He stepped back and her face fell, eyes almost tearing up. He looked down the corridor before hissing, "Not in the middle of the hall, Boss Lady!" He tugged her hand, pushing past her to her chambers. "Did you drink some of that juice, too?"

"Dammit, Frank!" She smiled, though, slipping her key in her lock.

He expected some awkwardness, he supposed. Some...hesitance. But she was a whirlwind of activity. "Here!" She pressed matches into his hand. "Start a fire. Since yar so good with wood." She turned, flashlight tracking her movements. "I'm gonna light candles."

It took him a few minutes to get the fire going in the cold grating, but soon enough the little flame was heating well enough. Pleased with himself, Frank stood to find the office bathed in flickering candlelight...and Sister Jude standing in the doorway to her chambers.

But _not _Sister Jude.

This was a dangerous woman. A flaxen haired vixen in a nearly sheer white slip. Beneath the slip he could make out the creamier satin of her panties and bra. She'd already shed any stockings she'd worn, and the toes of one slender bare foot rubbed up a far too shapely calf. His throat went dry and he made the most embarrassing sound he'd ever made. Sort of a strangled meep.

"Yar overdressed," she purred.

"Uh…" He couldn't think, much less speak. All the blood had diverted from his brain to his crotch.

She ruffled a hand through wild blonde curls. "Not changing yar mind are you?"

He took off his hat, rubbed his head nervously. A bead of sweat formed on his upper lip. "Jude," he whispered.

"Frank." Behind the seductress there was a very frightened female. She would never be able to explain it; that of all the men she'd ever been with this way (and there had been so many), this one - this good one - scared the Hell out of her. Because if he didn't want her...she truly wasn't worth having. "Please."

He finally moved. Hat in his hands, fingers circling the brim like they needed something to do, he came to lean against the other side of the door jamb. "Jude. I know...I know you got a lot at stake here. Way more than me. I don't want you ta feel like I have some kinda...expectation that you -"

"_I'm _the one with the expectation, Frank. Aren't I?" She asked. He was so handsome in this low light and his earnest eyes were studying her every expression. "Don't I expect you to jump when I snap my fingahs? Expect you to say 'how high, Sister Jude?' Don't I expect you ta make me smile now? To pull me outta the mud? To cool me off when I'm burnin' up?"

"That's my job, Boss Lady."

She reached for his hat, pulled it gently from his fingers and tossed it onto her desk. "Well, _this_ isn't yar job."

"It certainly isn't." Was he nervous? He was chewing his lip. "So what do you expect right now, Jude?"

She stepped toward him. His nostrils flared and his fists clenched at his sides. "I expect ya to want me." She began slowly unbuttoning his jacket, looking up at his pained expression through long lashes. "I expect ya to kiss me." She pushed the jacket from his shoulders, tackled the knot on his tie. "I expect ya to hold me." His breath was heavy on her head, the side of her face, as she slid the tie through his collar. "I expect ya to be sweet to me." Her fingers were firmer unbuttoning his shirt. When she peeled it down his arms, he grunted softly. "I expect ya to touch me."

"Jude," he murmured against her temple. "If I start touchin' you I won't stop."

"I won't ask you to." She whimpered. Felt her eyes wet.

He leaned on the jamb above her head, arms flexing. "And I have a feelin' it'll never be enough. That I'll never be enough."

"Frank!" She grabbed his jaw, hushed him with a kiss - a desperate, salty kiss. "I want you so bad," she growled. "Of course it'll nevah be enough - not far either of us! But it'll be worth it when we have it."

"I want more than ta fuck you, Jude." He spoke against her jaw, knuckles white from clutching the door's frame.

"Yeah?" Jude reached backward for his hands, eased them between them. "So show me." She put his hands at her ribs, letting them fly where they would.

And he couldn't get enough of those curves - of her sultry substantialness. She gasped, moaned in his mouth when he squeezed her breasts in all that satin. He brushed his thumbs firmly over the hard nipples, loving how her nails gouged his nape, his back. She offered herself up and he took broke away to breathe when she tackled his trousers. "Christ. I want ya naked, Jude." He was bunching slip. She nodded, as mindless as him and raised her arms.

Her skin was as soft as he'd imagined and she felt good stretched against him on the little bed. To combat the chill, they'd bastioned their nude bodies beneath her blankets and Frank had begun a quest to make Jude scream. She had no objections to his explorations, encouraged him in hot whispers and appreciative moans. His body was harder than she'd expected - solid and muscular. Or perhaps it had just been so long since she'd held a naked man this closely that she'd forgotten the dynamics.

And Frank was quite dynamic. An attentive lover. He was gentle. Murmured sweet nothings in her ear. Kissed every inch of her body. He worshiped her - and she'd never felt worshiped before. More to the point, sex had rarely lasted more than ten minutes or been more than grunting, sweating and a sticky mess to clean.

It was a little overwhelming. Or perhaps a lot overwhelming. Because when he finally slid inside her - after maneuvering her atop him - she found herself crying. And Frank found her crying, too.

"Judy?" He cupped her face, slowing her undulations. "Judy, baby. Shhhh." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Stop, beautiful. What's wrong?"

"I don't know!" She couldn't stop moving atop him. The pleasure was too great. Maybe that was causing the tears. "I'm sorry, Frank. You feel so good!"

"You do, too. Why are you crying?" He grimaced against his own pleasure, loathe to lose this moment with her.

"I don't know!" She hissed. Couldn't control the sleek strand of release curling in her belly. It curled her toes painfully and she gripped his head, mouth to his. "Frank! Fuck! I think I'm -" And she was. Incredibly. For the first time in her life. "Oh, God!" She wept harder, alien sensations making her shudder.

"Christ, yer beautiful when you come, Judy. I knew ya would be." He gripped her hips, a firm sweat on his brow, and delivered his final rough, sloppy thrusts as she rode out an intense orgasm. Frank muted his own grunts and animal growls in Jude's neck. She felt his teeth just barely scraping.

His fingers soothed any bruising they may have caused while the couple caught their breath.

Without the roar of her own pulse in her ears, Jude could hear the rumble of the storm outside finally starting to calm. She sniffled. Wiped ineffectively at the embarrassing puddle of snot, tears and sweat on her lover's clavicle. "Shit. I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Look at me." She couldn't. Shook her head. "Dammit. I said look at me," he insisted, tipped her chin up. His face looked as pained as hers felt. "Judy. I nevah had a lady cry after sex. I might be feelin' some kinda way about it." He was still softening inside her. The moment a vulnerable wound reopening.

She gave a shaky smile. Her thighs quivered, tired, and Frank rolled them - awkwardly in the tiny bed - until they faced each other. His thumbs stroked the fresh tears from her face. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"I don't know what yer sorry for." He frowned. "Fer this? Fer what we've done?"

"God, no!" Jude put her fingers to his lips. "Frank…" How to say what one felt when the feeling was brand new? "Frank. That was the first time I evah…" Her throat burned when she felt more tears threatening.

"Oh, Judy. Sweetheart." He pulled her to him, past her resistance, until she fully embraced him again. "I'm the one who should be apologizing then. For all the other sorry sons of bitches out there who never realized what they had hold of when they had you. For all the selfish bastards who treated you like -"

"A whore?" She interrupted. "I was a whore." The crying was becoming an ugly cry. Her breath hitched.

"You were a human, Jude. And a woman. A passionate, fiery woman who deserved bettah than she ever got." He gripped her jaw, maneuvering her for a kiss. "You hear me? I don't want ta hear ya call yerself that ever again. Okay?"

"Oh, Frank!" She kissed him harder, settling in his loose hold. He stroked her back and shoulders while her tears abated. Nuzzled her forehead until she pulled back to meet his eyes. "I have ta pee."

"I won't stand in yer way," he chuckled.

He watched her slip her habit over her nakedness. Grinned. In the ensuite door, she turned back. "You won't leave, will you?"

"Not if you tell me ta stay, Boss Lady."

She smiled shyly. "Stay."

They cuddled. Talked. Chuckled and teased. They made love again in the wee hours, neither wanting to sleep - to accept the fact that this night would indeed end. Jude set her alarm clock reluctantly. It was a short countdown now to absolute reality, to the waking hour. But she wanted him to stay, so he did. In fact, Frank slept before her. She studied his face in the now dying candlelight. Unguarded in repose, he looked so truly happy.

She smiled, closing her own eyes. She was happy, too.

_Lie to me, Jude. Please._

Her eyes snapped open remembering the voice. Suddenly, she didn't know what she was anymore...


	11. Lockdown

Sister Jude was late for the Monday afternoon staff meeting. She hustled up the Stairway to Heaven, habit rustling around her sore feet. Briskly, she slipped into the meeting room, frowning apology. "I'm sorry," she told the faces at the table. "I was caught up with the lock company."

"Understandable, Sister." Timothy Howard smiled at her, gesturing to her chair beside him. "Busy day."

"Quite." She sat, catching her breath as she opened up her planner. "First order of business? The new locking system is officially installed."

"Finally." Frank grumbled at her other side.

"No more slippery locks?" Carl asked.

"Thankfully, no." Jude assured. "The new system is completely automated. Controlled from three secure stations."

Frank picked up seamlessly, showing diagrams printed on thick paper. "One mechanism is in the security office. That's the main switch. It can control all doors, or go floor by floor. A second similar device is in Sister Jude's office. In the kitchen is a backup device that only controls patient rooms. In the event of an emergency, these three switches will lock down all of Briarcliff."

"Remarkable." The Monsignor approved. "Technology is progressing at an impressive rate."

"Scary." Carl offered, nodding.

"Not at all." Dr. Arden - new to the staff meetings - offered his first opinion. "I think if it lends itself to protecting the patients and staff of our institution, it should progress even faster."

"Agreed." Timothy agreed.

"Well. All progressives present will be pleased to know you each have a small key now." Jude produced her key ring. "This one. It fits each box. There are no backups to these keys so guard them closely. If you lose one, all the locks will have to be changed. So...don't lose them."

"Easy enough." Frank tapped the table. "What's next?"

"I have something, actually." Timothy spoke again. It was rare he brought anything to the table. Typically, he was only involved in Briarcliff from an administrative perspective, and typically through his right hand - Sister Jude. So every face turned to him expectantly. "I propose we move these weekly staff meetings. To Tuesday."

Blinks around the table. It was Mary Eunice who spoke. "I like that idea."

Jude hesitantly agreed. "I see no objections to moving the staff meetings. Is there any particular reasoning behind the idea?"

The priest shrugged. "Nothing happens on Tuesday."

"Ain't that the damn truth?" Carl snorted. "It's just Monday's bastard baby."

"Language, Carl." Jude reminded.

"It's a boring day." Eunice shook her head, clearly sympathizing with Tuesday.

Timothy winced. "It's more about strategy." He explained, elegant fingers growing animated. He reached for Jude's planner. "Example. Last Monday. Deliveries. Medications. Linens. Dry foodstuffs. Wednesday. Pickups. Laundry. Bakery goods. Bollocks. Wait." He squinted at the paper. Snickers traveled the table. Jude bit her lips. "That can't be right. What's this word, Sister?"

Jude looked, head close to his. "Oh. Ballasts." She whispered. "The broken light fixtures."

"Yes. Ballasts. Much better." A side smirk at Jude. "Dodgy handwriting, Sister."

"Eunice wrote that."

"I wrote that," Eunice confessed quietly. "I was in a hurry."

"Well." Timothy continued. "Thursday. Deep clean. Kitchen. Hydrotherapy. Friday. Security checks all wards." He slid the planner back to Jude. "Tuesday is the only clear day on the docket. Makes sense."

"Perfect sense." Jude put said to it. "Any objections to moving our staff meetings to Tuesday?" There were no objections. "Good. Next staff meeting." She jotted in her planner. "Next Tuesday at...2 pm?" Nods. "Excellent. Anything else?"

Eunice clapped a little. "Yay! Tuesday is going to be happy to have something."

Jude rubbed her face. "Absolutely. Dr. Arden? I believe you mentioned something about spores yesterday. I'd like you ta expound."

"Ah, yes." The physician leaned forward. "I've lately seen an influx of patients with breathing issues coming from C-wing. I was curious, so I investigated briefly. I believe several of the cells on that ward are infested with mold spores. It would be in our best interests to have them cleaned post haste and find the source of the excess moisture. There may be a leak in a wall or ceiling."

"Yeah, C-ward's a shitshow."

"Carl!" Jude snapped now. "Language!"

"A good observation, Doctor." Timothy considered. "I'd like a tour of C-ward. If you would show me and Sister Jude your findings so that we may proceed appropriately." The doctor nodded.

"I believe Frank has planned some trainings on the new locking mechanisms, Fathah." Jude announced.

"Wonderful." Timothy's lips tightened, but he tried a smile.

"I'll take Carl and Sister Mary Eunice here, first." Frank informed Jude. "While you and the Monsignor go watch spores together."

"Thanks, Frank."

"I'm a little jealous." The guard grinned. "Sounds fun."

Jude avoided looking at him. "We'll meet you aftah. In the security office?"

"Nah we'll be in the kitchens by then. Taking in the drygoods delivery."

"Fine." Jude cleared her throat. "The locking service is finishing up the last of their work. They should be checking out of the facility soon, as well. I assume you'll handle that?"

"You got it, boss lady."

Jude didn't miss the Monsignor's slight cringe at Frank's casual address. She hoped, however, that the Monsignor missed her bright blush. The last time Frank had called her 'boss lady,' she'd been demanding that he fuck her harder. And he'd delivered his usual positive results. "Well, then." She slapped her planner closed. "If there's nothing more…"

"Until next Tuesday!" Eunice enthused.

"Yay, Tuesday!" Carl laughed. "Finally worth a fuck!"

"Carl!" Jude managed to swat the orderly across the table with her planner. "Language!"

The meeting dispersed with the group splitting clean in two. Carl and Eunice chattered amiably as they wandered into the hall before Frank. The security guard discreetly rubbed Jude's shoulder, thumb stroking bare skin just above her collar. "See ya soon, Sister." He spoke lowly in her ear.

She shivered. "Mmhm."

The thumb and the hand were gone by the time the Monsignor and Arden turned to Jude. "Ready, Sister?"

"Coming!" She stepped aside so Frank could brush past in the doorway, and set off toward C-ward with her unlikely companions.

Arden chuckled as they passed various locked and opened doors. "This reminds me of a joke I heard once."

"Oh?" Jude smirked. "How's it go?"

"A priest, a nun, and a doctor were…" But he trailed off. Cleared his throat. "Actually, that joke may not be appropriate."

"Uh-huh." Jude chuckled. "Probably not."

"I always secretly liked those jokes," Timothy whispered to Arden.

"I heard that." Jude hissed.

They stopped at cell 12. "This one. Patient…" Arden flipped open a small notepad. "A -14795. Asthma."

"Marley Knox." Jude stepped into the empty cell. Knox was no doubt in the common room at the moment with the others. "He's fairly quiet."

Timothy glanced about. "Perhaps because he can't breathe." The priest's nose wrinkled. "It does smell quite damp."

Jude bent to look beneath the cot nearby. "Yep. That's mold."

Timothy bent beside her, also looking. "Yuck."

Jude sighed. "Definitely an issue. Do you think we should move the patients while we sort this out, Doctah?"

"Definitely." Arden lingered in the hallway, still studying his notebook. "There are two other cells. This way."

The nun and the priest made to follow, but were stopped in their tracks when the cell door swung closed swiftly. "Oh!" Timothy reached for the handle just in time to hear and feel the new steel lock slam into place. "Um…"

Jude produced her keys. "Got it." She located the master key with a quickness. They heard other doors slamming, other locks locking. "Fathah?"

"What?"

"My key isn't working."

"What do you mean it isn't working?"

Jude jiggled the key with increasing force. "I think the automatic lock is on override."

"What does that mean?"

"It will have to be triggered from a locking station." She bit her lip. "Maybe Frank and the othahs accidentally tripped it while training."

"Mary Eunice does seem a bit trigger happy." The Monsignor looked up through the grating. "Dr. Arden?" When he got no response, he shouted. "Dr. Arden!"

"I'm in cell 16!" Arden shouted up the hall. He could barely be heard. "I believe I'm locked in!"

"So are we!" Timothy yelled back. "Hold on!" He looked at Jude. Their hands brushed when he tried the key to no avail. "Do you suppose Mr. McCann is aware of this situation?"

"Frank is aware of every situation." Jude answered. She peeked through the grating, too. "The lights aren't flashing, and there's no alarm. It's probably a glitch. Mr. Briggs said we might have a few kinks to work out with the wiring."

"Kinks?"

"With the wiring."

"Kinks are not good in mental institutions, Jude."

"Well, we got a lotta kinky people in here, Timothy."

"That doesn't exactly increase my positivity at the moment."

"Sorry." She shrugged, giving up on the key and stepping away. Hands on her hips. She rolled her head on her neck, pacing the tiny cell.

"What do we do?" Timothy asked.

"I guess we wait."

"Wait. Right." He looked out the grating again. "Is anyone out there?" He called.

"I'm out here!" Arden shouted back meekly.

Jude rolled her eyes. "They're all in the common room. It's recreation time." She sighed. "The ward's main door will be locked, too." She flipped the mattress on Marley's cot before sitting primly. The true awkwardness of the moment settled when Timothy sat beside her, fingers fidgety. "I'm sorry about this, Fathah."

"Hardly your fault."

"I'm sure the lock people will get this sorted. I doubt they've left yet."

"Or they have. And we'll be locked in here for hours."

"That doesn't increase my positivity at the moment."

"Sorry." Jude chuckled. "Well. I'm certain your Mr. McCann will get the situation under control."

"_My _Mr. McCann." Jude repeated absently. Chuffed softly. A slight worry creased her forehead. He couldn't _know _\- the Monsignor - that _her _Mr. McCann had recently become her secret lover. That three times now (only three times? It seemed like more…) they'd made increasingly passionate love in her tiny Briarcliff bed, had held each other in cooling baths, had sneaked a few promising kisses beneath stairwells and behind cell doors… He couldn't know that. _No one _ knew that.

"Forgive my phrasing."

"Phrasing means something." She pressed the issue quietly.

"You trust him."

"Implicitly. Like I trust you."

"You trust me?" As if it was a revelation, the priest looked askance at her.

"Of course I trust you, Fathah. As much as I trust Frank. As much as I've evah trusted anyone." Suddenly, Timothy was laughing. "What?" Jude asked. "What's so funny?"

"Jude." He looked at the floor. "I've always felt a sort of...barrier with you. I suppose I took it as mistrust."

"A barrier."

"To our friendship."

Jude swallowed. She looked at the floor, too. "I nevah realized you wanted...to be friends."

"You are more than a professional colleague to me." He sniffed. "We are united by a singular cause, Sister. In a family of Christ. I suppose I thought we might be...closer."

"Closer." She thought. He couldn't know _that_, either. About the red slip. About the forbidden fantasies. How she often imagined his fingers on her skin, even if the fingers belonged to another man. He could _never _know that. No one could.

"Jude."

"What?" They spoke quietly now. No need to speak above any din. All was silent in the lockdown.

"Do you know what struck me, the first time I met you?"

"Mothah Superior told me that you said I seemed strong. And firm."

"You did. You are those things. No doubt in my mind." He paused, gathering thoughts. "But I couldn't tell Mother Claudia that...it was your smile that made my mind. You'd been so professional in our meeting. Really rather…" A grin. "You were really quite intimidating, Jude. And I was relatively certain you were the sister to run Briarcliff based on that, yes. But as I was leaving that day, you were in the rectory. Do you remember?" She closed her eyes, thinking. Yes, she remembered that day. Would never forget it. "A bird had flown in through an open window. And you and Mary Eunice had a net -"

"It was a laundry sack. On a yardstick." She was smiling even now, recalling the incident.

Timothy laughed. "I believe Eunice managed to capture the bird. Right? She was leaping over pews?"

"She's very agile, Mary Eunice." Jude assured.

"Oh, quite! I agree. But when she went to put hands on the bird, I think it -"

"Bit her."

"Yes! It pecked at her finger! She screamed, I believe -"

"Bloody murdah."

"And you had to get hold of the bird. But you were laughing quite hard -"

"I was dying!" She was dying again. Tears welling with the laughter she tried to hold in. "Eunice was scared it had rabies!"

Timothy sobered. "I saw you - watched you turn. There was this light coming through one of the stained glass windows. The one with St. Anthony, I believe. It lit your face so perfectly and your smile was radiant. It...mutated somehow. From this toothy, laughing grin to the…" He searched again for words. "The prettiest, softest, kindest turn of the lips. And in that light - when you walked by me - there were these golden specks in your brown eyes."

She was breathless. Her heart raced. He felt very close to her. "I didn't know you were there." It was true. Honestly, she would have been mortified to know the Monsignor had seen her in such undignified circumstances.

"I know." His hand was warm on her shoulder. The same shoulder Frank had stroked earlier. "I knew in that moment that I wanted you."

She felt dreadfully vulnerable. Horribly guilty. She could have melted into the filthy mattress they sat upon. "Fathah…" She rubbed at her arms, feeling a chill.

"I can't recall the last time I saw you smile since then, Jude." There was a rustling. She stared at the floor still. Startled when his woolen cassock settled over her shoulders. "When do you smile?"

"Eunice still makes me smile." It was true.

"Mr. McCann makes you smile." Also true.

"I see," she said. She took a deep breath. "Frank is...funny." Timothy nodded. "Eunice is...simply a light." A quick glare. "Don't _evah _tell her I said that."

"Of course not." He chuckled. "I would like to make you smile, Jude."

"So tell me something." She met his gaze finally, needing a change of subject, anyway. Needing to get a hold on her rampant emotions. "Tell me something to make me smile."

He thought. HIs handsome face was even handsome screwed up like that. "When I was a boy, one of my chores was to get coal for the furnace. We lived in a flat in North London, so I had a flight of stairs to climb with the coal scuttle. And sometimes, my bully of an older brother would lie in wait on the landing for me, and slap the scuttle from my hands. So I had to collect coal all the way down the stairs and then sweep it up."

"That's not funny!" Jude cried, laughing despite herself. "That's cruel! What a horrible thing to do to yar brother!"

"Oh, my brother was a terror. Absolutely. But we pranked each other. It was hardly one-sided."

"What's his name?"

"Andrew."

"Andrew and Timothy." Jude murmured. "Good, solid British names."

"Indeed. Do you have siblings, Jude?"

"No. Fortunately far my mothah, I was an only child."

"Fortunately for _you_." Timothy added.

"Apparently so! I nevah had to scuttle coal up the steps!"

"I imagine you were a very quiet, well-behaved girl."

She burst out laughing this time. If he'd really wanted a smile, he got one full force. "You'd be dead wrong." Warmer now, she grew animated. "So. Far instance. I always had really long hair. I liked putting it in ponytails and pigtails and being able to flip it around. Right?" He nodded, fascinated by this side of Jude. "Well, my mothah was adamant that I was gonna cut my hair. I was almost 13 and it was a mess. Rat beds all down my back. Tangles," she explained at his odd expression. "It was really just...awful. But I refused to cut it. Wouldn't let my mothah near it. It was a solid issue far her. And one day, I was sitting on the top step of our porch, eating an ice cream sandwich. There was probably ice cream sandwich in a pigtail. And all of a sudden, my mothah sneaks up behind me with a pair of her sewin' shears and -" She mimed the cutting motion, a slicing sound. "She sheared that right pigtail clean off."

"You were angry."

"I was furious! Pitched a ripe fit! And of course, now I've got a head full of half long half short hair. What was I ta do?"

"What did you do?"

Jude sighed heavily. "I gave in. I let her cut the othah one off. Even it out."

"Did you resent her?"

"Far a few days, yeah. But…" An eyeroll. "It was so much bettah after that. Easier ta wash. Easier ta brush. Lighter. Really improved my quality of life."

"Did you tell your mother that?"

"Oh, hell no!" They laughed together. "I wanted her ta take that guilt ta the grave!" She wiped at the laugh tears on her cheeks. "What about you? You and your brother evah get along?"

"Never."

"Oh." He didn't seem willing to say more about that, so Jude let it be. "What about your mother? Was she strict?"

"Not at all. She doted on me." Timothy recalled. "I have very fond memories of my mother."

Jude leaned against the wall behind them, settling into this rapport. "Like what?"

"She loved music."

This piqued the nun's interest. "Yeah? What kind?"

"I doubt you would know any of it." He settled against the wall, too.

She nudged his elbow with her own. "Try me."

"Let's see...Jo Stafford?"

"Oh, Jo Stafford."

"Didn't think you'd know her."

Jude closed her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd sang Jo Stafford. But… "See the pyramids along the Nile. Watch the sun rise on a tropic isle. Just remember, darling, all the while...You belong to me…" She trailed off on a sultry hum. It felt good to sing. And Timothy's gape made her grin. "What?"

"That was - that was quite good, Sister!" He laughed. "Sing another."

"Well, who else did she like?"

"Billie Holiday."

"Your mothah and I would have gotten along. Let's see." She thought. "I'm a fool to want you. I'm a fool to want you. To want a love that can't be true, a love that's there for others too…"

"I can't understand why you never sang in the choir."

She was blushing hotly. "I gave up singing when I took my vows. It was part of the past I wanted to leave behind."

"Ah. I'm sorry I brought it up, then."

"Not at all." She patted his hand on his knee. "I enjoyed it."

"Your hands are freezing!"

"It's cold in here!" Timothy held her hand, rubbed it between his own. Jude tried to ignore how uncomfortably warming it was. "I um...I think I'll see to installing extra heating. I think the air would help with the moisture." (Not _her _moisture. That couldn't be helped at the moment.) "And I feel awful imagining our patients sleeping in this chill. I nevah knew it was this bad."

The Monsignor was examining one of her fingers curiously. "I couldn't knowingly put a person in these conditions." He admitted. "Nor could you, Jude. Perhaps this was God's way of showing us that attention was needed to their comfort."

"He works in mysterious ways." She smiled.

"Quite."

Jude yawned. Couldn't help it. She was typically moving about too much to notice her exhaustion, but the silence, the comfort, and the warmth of Timothy's cassock made her gently sleepy.

"You're tired," he observed.

"Mmhm."

"Well. I don't suppose a rest could hurt." He looked around the dim cell. "Looks as though we have time." Jude's hand relaxed in his own. He looked at the strong fingers again. "Jude. I've enjoyed our talk. I think it has...strengthened our relationship. I feel I know you better. And I hope you feel the same of me. I've been remiss in recognizing your trust. I apologize. But opening up to you here, despite the less than savory circumstances, has given me great inspiration and hope for what we can accomplish together. And...I look forward to knowing you even better. To further deepening our bond. I really think we shall be quite dynamic. In fact, with God's will and our combined efforts, I suspect the Church may find even greater uses for our strengths. What do you think, Jude? Will you be my right hand?" She didn't answer. He looked at her. "Jude? Oh…"

The sister was asleep. Head against cement wall, she was completely unguarded. Her typically worried expression was smooth. A tiny smile tugged at the edges of her lips. Timothy smirked. Carefully, he adjusted his cassock a little more tightly around her. The hand still in his own had warmed. He held it still, and let his own head fall against the wall. The quiet ward spurred quiet thoughts. He closed his own eyes, willing to let the thoughts come. When Jude's temple came to rest against his shoulder, his smirk turned to smile.

_Meanwhile, In the Kitchens of Briarcliff…_

"Do you think there's an actual emergency?"

"No, little Sistah." Frank was wrestling with the little key in the lockbox. It hadn't worked, and was now firmly lodged, preventing his compatriots from trying their keys. "If there was a real emergency, there'd be an alarm. I think this is just a glitch somewhere in the new system."

"Can we override it?" Carl asked.

"I probably could. If I could get the goddamn box open. Sorry, Sistah." Frank winced at his own curse.

Eunice smiled. She was a forgiving soul. "It's okay, Mr. McCann. I know you're frustrated."

"I'm going to have to break into it. Carl, find me a hammer or...something heavy."

"Sure thing, Frank." The orderly wandered off.

"Do you think everything is alright?" Eunice asked. "That the patients are okay? Our other sisters?"

"I imagine they're mostly locked down in the common room. So hopefully there are enough sisters and orderlies in there to mind the loonies." Truthfully, he worried about Jude. He wasn't certain what part of the asylum she might be locked into, or with whom. And he didn't trust Arden one bit. Or the Monsignor, really. Not that they would _hurt _Judy, per se… But one never knew. "I'm sure it will be fine, Mary Eunice." He smiled reassuringly at the young nun. "We'll get it sorted out."

"Couldn't find a hammer, but this should work." Carl brandished a mean looking meat mallet.

"Oh, yeah, that's great!" Frank hefted it. "Stand back." Carl and Eunice stepped away, the little nun raising a baking sheet over her face. She peeked past it at Frank.

He was as precise as possible with the mallet, banging at the hinge on the lockbox. After a few firm smacks, his key loosened in the lock and he turned it successfully. "Ah! Gotcha." Carl and Eunice closed in, smiling. "Let's see here…" He flipped the main switch. A zap was heard. A spark flared behind the box. "Woah! Maybe not." He flipped the main switch back. "Damn."

"Didn't work, huh?" Carl looked at the still-bolted kitchen entrance.

"Nope. It's the fucking wiring. The should have replaced all the old copper behind these things." Frank tapped at his pockets. "I thought I had that business card. Must be in Jude's office." Or on the floor beneath her bed. With his badge and her torn panties. But he couldn't focus on that now. "Sistah?"

"Yes?" Eunice was eager to help.

"Get on that phone over there. Call the operator and get connected to Briggs Locking Systems Incorporated. Find out if they're still here. I haven't checked them out yet, so hopefully they're aware and working on this issue."

"Yes, sir!" Eunice scampered to the kitchen phone by the freezer.

"Carl?"

"Yeah?"

Frank stepped away from the lock box, removing his cap. "Fix us up some sandwiches, will ya? I'm starvin'."

"Hell yeah."

Listening to Mary Eunice's conversation assured Frank that the lock company was still on Briarcliff's premises. He called down to the main gates, had a guard secure the entrance and another try to get in and get word to Mr. Briggs. Hopefully, they would be released soon and life could return to abnormal. He also called Jude's office directly, wondering if she might have popped in for something, but no answer. Also no answer in Arden's mad scientist lab. He suspected they were trapped in C-ward the whole time. There were a few patients and nuns in the library, but they reported they were fine. He had no way of contacting the common room. Had to simply hope for the best there…

They made themselves comfortable around the butcher's block. Carl had thrown together a pleasant roast beef, and they sliced it up, dipping into spicy mustard and creamy mayo. "This is pretty good, Carl." Eunice said.

"Thanks. I used ta work in a deli downtown."

"Really?" Frank asked. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah. Bobbi's Deli. Best fuckin' pastrami around."

"I love a good pastrami."

"Mmmm. And honey roasted turkey." Eunice moaned.

"A thick slice of ham on fresh, warm rye." Frank nodded to the nun, winking. "That's where it's at."

"Flavor Town!" Carl yelled, fist bumping Frank. "Why don't we get these nuts baking up some hot rye down here, little sistah?"

Eunice shrugged. "I'll ask Sister Jude."

"Sister Jude." Carl chuckled.

"What about her?" Frank side eyed the orderly.

"She's somethin' else."

"How you mean?" Perfectly casual questioning, Frank thought. Not defensive at all.

"Scariest woman I've ever met. She's a tough one fer sure."

"She's not _that _scary." Eunice mused. "I mean, only if I do something _really _stupid. Or ya know… if Shelley's involved."

"I'll tell ya this." Carl leveled his sandwich at his dinner companions. "That day in the garden? In all that mud?" He low whistled. "You coulda knocked me ovah with a feathah. Forgive me bein' crass, little sistah, but yar boss is built like a brick shithouse."

"Ay!" Frank stabbed finger at Carl. "Shut that shit down right now. There's a nun here!"

"What's a brick shithouse?" Eunice asked.

Frank shut her down, too. "Don't worry about it."

"Sorry!" Carl held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry, little sistah. Just sayin' yer boss is… a tough lady."

"Mmhm." Eunice nodded emphatically, speaking around a mouth full of sandwich. "You should have seen her the night of defensive training! She was super scary then!"

"Handed me my ass fer sure." Frank chuckled, then quieted. "But...Jude's a great lady. She deserves respect. _Carl._" He stressed. Carl looked sheepish. "And I know she doesn't show it much, but...she's awful crazy about you, little sistah."

Eunice froze, chewing. "Do you...do you think so?"

"I know so." Frank judged her chin. "But I am, too. So it's okay, huh?" Her bright smile - complete with mayonnaise dollop - made the guard laugh.

Carl slid off his stool. "I gotta visit the little boy's room, you two."

They watched him slip around the corner into a tiled corridor. Eunice spoke quietly. "Mr. McCann?"

"What?"

"Jude is very lucky to have you."

Frank avoided her gaze. "How you mean that, Eunice?"

Eunice stared at her lap, plucking crumbs there. "Just...that you care about her." She would never reveal her secret. That she'd heard them that night in this very kitchen. Talking. Kissing. Or that she recognized the sounds of Jude's door closing and Frank's keys rattling lightly in the hallways, early, so very early in the mornings and how after - Sister Jude was different. Softer. Gentler. Quicker to laugh and easier to smile.

She didn't know a lot of things, Mary Eunice. But she had a tremendous instinct for human nature. And whatever happened between her boss and boss' head of security...it was fine. In the eyes of God, love was not a sin. And Eunice believed that with all her heart.

Frank regarded the young nun seriously for a moment. "Well." He cleared his throat. "It's my job ta care."

Eunice patted his shoulder. "You're very good at your job, Mr. McCann."

"Will you ever call me Frank, little sistah?"

Her eyes sparkled. "The day you stop calling me little sister, I'll call you Frank."

A rich deep laugh. "I gotcha." He nodded. "But I'll tell ya the truth...that might be a while. Cuz I think of you like my little sistah every day."

It was so sudden he couldn't have predicted it at all. In fact, he was completely thrown when she hurled herself off her stool and wrapped him tightly. "Oh, Mr. McCann! I always wanted a big brother!"

After catching his balance against the butcher block, Frank managed to awkwardly return the hug, patting her black-clad back. He was grinning. "I'll try ta watch out for ya, then. Like a big brother ought to. Always. Yeah?"

"We gonna sing Kumbayah, or what?" Carl slipped back onto his seat, not particularly surprised by the hug being exchanged.

Frank was ready with a sharp comeback, but a sudden, chunking sound hushed him. "The locks!" They rushed to the kitchen door. It opened at the turn of the handle. "Alright!" Frank enthused. "Let's get this place checked out! Eunice, take first floor and the common room with Carl, huh? I'm gonna find Jude for ward checks."

"On it." Eunice practically skipped alongside Carl.

Frank rushed up the Stairway to Heaven, two steps at a time. Orderlies, volunteers and nuns were beginning to spring from various unlocked rooms. Patients seemed relatively calm. Good signs. He skidded into C-ward just in time to see a flustered Arden emerging down the hall. "Doc!"

"Ah, Mr. McCann! Ever vigilant." Arden dusted at his white lab coat. "I believe Sister Jude and the Monsignor were in cell 12 there." He pointed, rushing by. "If you'll excuse me, I've an experiment in my lab that has no doubt spoiled by now."

"Sure thing, Doc." _Weirdo. _Cell 12 was quiet and dark. Franks forehead creased. He opened the door. "Jude? Monsignor?"

The light from the hallway fell upon the cot inside and Frank froze just inside the cell. Jude was blinking slowly, obviously waking from a deep sleep.

On the Monsignor whose head rested atop hers.

She snapped to attention when she met the light. Frank watched her hand leave the priest's and felt his throat constrict a bit. Her stirring stirred Father Howard. "Frank!" She smiled. "Thank God!" Her hands were on his shoulders. One was cold. _Not _the one that had been in the Monsignor's hand, obviously. She even _smelled_ like the priest. His long black robe swayed around her.

Timothy stood slowly, back stiff. Frank cleared his throat. "Doors are open." He slipped out of Jude's grateful grip. "I'm gonna check the premises."

Jude stepped into the hallway after him. "Frank? Wait. I'll come with ya."

The guard turned quickly. "I got this." He made a gesture for her to stay.

"Frank?" She blinked. Felt Timothy emerge behind her. Frank disappeared down the hall, a briskly retreating shadow. Jude sighed.

Mr. Briggs was very apologetic. Apparently, the locks had tripped when they attempted to replace some wiring behind the box in Jude's office. They'd fixed the situation as soon as possible, but as soon as possible had taken nearly four hours. And now they had to replace the rest of the wiring. Jude insisted that the locks be taken offline until the task was completed. She would have _no_ repeat performances.

Timothy had been stern with the locksmith and his team. It was almost laughable, the soft priest hardening his eyes and tone. But Jude admired the attempt. When Briggs walked away from them - head down in shame - the pair humphed justifiably at his back. "Well." Father Howard smiled at her. "I feel we've had a most enlightening day together."

She nodded, distracted. "Absolutely, father. I feel I should take a tour. Check the natives."

"Of course." He still smiled. "I'm going to contact the Archbishop and the state board. Just to give them an update. And to request funds for a better heating unit for C-Ward."

"Just in case." Jude smirked.

"Just in case."

They parted ways amiably, but as soon as she was out of sight, Jude rushed about. Frank was not in the common room. She didn't see him on any ward. He wasn't in the security office. Had he left? Surely not. He would never abandon a shift. She finally caught Carl outside hydrotherapy, mop in hand. "Where's Frank?"

"He said he was headed to the gym." Carl shrugged. "Guess he needed a break from the four hour break we had. Not that I blame him. I need one now. The loonies locked in hydro turned the whole place into a fucking wading pool."

"Language, Carl." She whisked away, habit hem wet.

No one used the gym at Briarcliff. Well, staff did. But only in the spring and fall. Months when it wasn't blistering hot or desperately cold. Now, the October winds were already putting a chill in the air. The gym was a meat locker when she walked in, door slamming shut behind her.

It was the wall of windows that made the building so difficult to warm. It also shined a harsh light on the true abandonment of the place; dust motes swirled around weight benches, jump ropes dry rotted on the walls, and a volleyball net threatened to snap at any moment.

The only activity came from the most shadowed corner. A fast, staccato tempo. Punches. She bit her lips as she approached, worried. Frank was shirtless and sweating despite the frigid temp. He was giving the heavy punching bag there a pretty good pounding, hands wrapped securely in short gloves.

He glimpsed her from the corner of his eye. Not exactly ignoring her, but not acknowledging, either. She watched him for a moment, hand nervous behind her back, reminded just how masculine Frank really was. Her hands had memorized every taut, thick inch of this man, but rarely did she see him in this much light. His arms were fit. Strong. Chest flat and stomach hard. She felt a thrill just beneath her worry.

Best to be forward with him. She refused to condescend or play dumb. She knew why he was upset - or at least she was fairly certain she knew. "You punchin' me? Or the Monsignor?"

"I'd nevah hit a woman." He was still hitting. "Specially not you, Jude."

"Yar angry."

"Yeah. I am." He finally turned away from the bag, swiped an arm across his forehead. "I'll get over it."

"D'you wanna talk?"

"Nothin' ta say."

"Say what you feel, Frank."

"Fuck, Jude." He was taking the gloves off, dropping them onto the pad beneath them. "What am I supposed ta say? Huh? What do I have the right ta say? I'm jealous cuz the nun I'm fucking was cuddled up with the priest I hate? Do I have the right ta be pissed about that?"

"I'm sure it looked odd."

"Odd?" Frank laughed, still catching his breath.

"Frank. He's my superior. And...he _is _ a priest. A far better holy person than I am."

"I know how you feel about him."

Jude raised her arms, frustrated. "I wish you'd stop saying that! Frank, I don't feel -"

"Don't fuckin' lie ta me!" He stabbed a finger at her. "Lie ta him all ya want. Lie ta yerself. But don't try that shit with me, Sister."

"I'm not lying!" She shouted. "And don't yell at me!"

"Gonna pull rank?"

"Hell, Frank. This isn't about rank or...anything like that. This is about us."

"There is no us, Judy."

And that hurt. Stung a bit. She winced. "Frank, we -"

"You think about him." He paced away from her, leaned against a rack of weights. "When I'm touching you. When I'm inside you. Tasting you." She flushed brightly. Couldn't control it. "Dontcha?"

How could he know that? She closed her eyes, rubbed at her temples and stepped toward him. "Frank. Why would you say these things?"

"I love you, Judy." The quiet statement echoed n this chamber of solace. "I would take you away from all this hell. I would worship you the way you worship him. I would -"

"Stop!" She whirled away.

"No! You need ta hear all this." He grabbed her arm. "Because you are so convinced that yer so fucking damaged that you think you don't deserve love. You think you deserve what he has to offer you: seritude, Jude. And some...fucked up forbidden lust shit that I can't figure out."

"Yar bein' ridiculous!" She spat.

"I'm bein' honest, Judy."

"We talked!" She shoved at his chest, now as angry as he was. "We talked about our families and I fell asleep, Frank! He nevah touched me!"

"He was holdin' yer hand, Jude!"

"Oh, what a scandal!"

"You don't even hold my hand."

"Frank, you asshole!" Tears crept in. She hated that she cried when she was angry. "You are my lovah! We're a little beyond holding fucking hands here! _Friends _hold hands. And believe it or not, Timothy wants ta be my friend. He told me. And he said -"

"Jesus Christ, Jude! He's manipulating you! He's a manipulator! He wants ta use you! He knows yer smart and that scares the hell outta him. You think he's not gonna tell you all the pretty things you wanna hear?"

"This is jealousy talking, Frank." She pulled her arm from his grip. Made to leave. "I refuse ta have this argument. It's stupid."

"How many skeletons d'you think you can clean outta his closet?" He grabbed her again, this time by her shoulders. Turned her. "How far will you let him take you? He's not just a substitution like me, is he? Will ya look _him _in the eyes when he fucks you?"

She didn't even think. She simply acted. Her hand connected sharply with the side of his face. She slapped him - hard. "How dare you?" Her voice lacked the strength to shout, so she whispered. She wanted to sob. Wanted to curl on the floor and lament what felt like it was being lost. "You say you love me, then say these things to me?" She sounded like a weak woman to her own ears. Resented it strongly. But she was crumbling. "I told him I trusted you…" She hit him again - on the arm this time. "I trusted you!"

"Goddamn you, Jude!" He snatched her around her waist. She struggled, but only until his mouth arced over hers.

He was sticky with dried sweat. His mouth tasted like the blood she'd drawn with her slap. He was essential. From pushing to clutching, her fingers worked at his shoulders and they dropped to the thick mat. Pawed at each other's clothes until habit was pushed up just enough and pants were pushed down just enough.

It burned when he pushed inside her. She wasn't exactly ready. Hadn't planned or expected this turn of events. He caught her yelp of pain in his mouth, shoved her wimple from her head and took her curls in his hands. "Look at me, Jude," he growled, beginning to fuck her slowly. "Open your eyes and look at me."

"God, Frank," she moaned.

"Please, Jude…" His thumbs stroked the corners of her eyes. "Please open your eyes."

She did, struggling to do so, knowing tears would escape. His gaze bore into hers and she had to look away. There was more than desire burning in that look and she couldn't handle it. But as quickly as it had begun was as quickly as it ended. Frank pulled out of her. Pushed up and away from her so fast he left her breathless. She floundered for a moment, burning and pushing her habit down to protect her modesty.

She sat up slowly, uncertainty stifling. He was dressing, rough and brisk in his motions. "Frank," she whispered, drawing her knees to her chin.

"Sister Jude." He addressed her without looking at her, adjusting his cap. "I think...we may be looking for two different things in this life. Or two different people."

"Frank." But she didn't really know what to say, or why the tears were thickening.

"I can't do this anymore."

"Please."

"Please what. Please keep being your convenience? Your distraction? Your substitution? I can't do that."

"Frank, I'm _not _in love with that man!" _Am I?_

"Jude, even you don't believe yourself right now." He was tucking his shirt. Straightening his tie. "I'm sorry. I can't make this worse for myself."

"What are you saying?" She was fairly certain she knew. Fairly certain her heart was breaking.

"I shouldn't have even started this."

"We both started this."

"So we both should walk away from it."

"Frank, don't leave me."

He was already walking to the door. He paused, but didn't look back. "Judy...I'll never leave ya. But don't wanna touch you again until you're ready ta let me love ya." And he left her.

She sat on the dusty mat in the empty gym. Her habit smelled of his sweat. Her mouth tasted of his mouth. She put her head on her knees. No one was looking, so she cried.


End file.
